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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28515891">The Muggle Technology Integration Project</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allychik6/pseuds/Allychik6'>Allychik6</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Fic Where Draco is an Asshole [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Auror Harry Potter, Clubbing, Dark Artefacts Specialist Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy Being an Asshole, Draco Malfoy in Muggle locations, Harry Potter being a dumbass, M/M, More Bad Language, Muggle Technology, Potions, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Some sexy times, everyone's favorite blowjobs!, featuring! A bit of mystery, in public places, lots of curry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:48:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>33,489</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28515891</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allychik6/pseuds/Allychik6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After ten years in the US, the British Ministry has asked Draco to consult on a project. The Greengrasses have asked him to consider a match with Astoria. His mother has asked him to come home. These things Draco was prepared for.<br/>He wasn’t prepared for what Harry was asking.</p><p>Excerpt:<br/>“Are we ever going to talk about what happened last weekend?”<br/>Draco’s steps ceased.<br/>“I mean, it was very nice, and I was wondering if maybe we should meet for--Malfoy?” Harry realized he had left Malfoy behind.<br/>Draco looked up from his feet. “What <em>happens</em> at the Gay Muggle Club, Potter, stays at the Gay Muggle Club.”<br/>“Oh, no, I just thought it was nice, and that maybe--”<br/>“What part of my statement do you not understand?” Malfoy checked Harry hard as he stepped past. “We don’t talk about that.”<br/>“Why?”<br/>“Because, Potter,” Draco sighed loudly. “What happens at the Gay Muggle Club <em>stays</em> at the Gay Muggle Club. Those are the rules.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Fic Where Draco is an Asshole [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076237</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is part two, it is NOT necessary to have read Part 1: The Cursed Watch to understand the events of this story, although it may be helpful. It’s a short and easy read, if you want to know a little bit more about Roxi and what Draco does in New York. It's like the Prolog to this story.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Harry did see Malfoy, eight months later, he was lounging against the wall of his office in what might have been the exact same suit but probably wasn’t and still looking like sex. Really, it was maddening. Did the man always look like sex? If he looked like that, lounging against a wall in Harry’s place of employment, what would he look like in a pub? Or Merlin forbid, stretched naked on Harry’s bed? Or would he lounge against the wall of his bedroom in the nude?
</p><p>And it wasn’t like Harry as some sort of sex deprived man. He and Henri had engaged in a tryst as they usually did when Henri was in town. And then there had been those several nights with the cursebreaker from Spain. And he and Ginny had even tried dating again for a whole month before she decided she really did prefer all the traveling unattached and they broke things off again. Those were just the repeat events. He occasionally went out to this pub, the Lengthy Wand, to pull.
</p><p>So, really, there was no legitimate reason for Malfoy to look like sex in a suit, except, of course that when Harry saw him, with the long hair and the earrings, all buttoned up in the waistcoat with those  trousers it caused all the blood in his body to rush south.
</p><p>No one else seemed to have this problem.
</p><p>“Hello?” he said, because it was 8:04am and Harry hadn’t had enough tea yet.
</p><p>“I’m here for Weasley.” Malfoy scowled, and Harry was pretty sure it was illegal somewhere for him to be turned on by that.
</p><p>“Uh, Hermione firecalled this morning, he’s got the flu. Why do you need Ron?” Harry tried to skirt around him and sit down at his desk. “Why are you here at all?” he asked, confusion finally overpowering the sexual attraction.
</p><p>“Consulting.” Malfoy’s scowl turned to a frown.
</p><p>“I thought you hated travel.”
</p><p>“I do.” Malfoy straightened up and looked out into the hallway. “It’s punishment for my presentation. My boss wasn’t happy when she found out I presented on my muggle technology potion rather than the importance of potion work in general.” He came back into the room and sat down at Ron’s desk, legs splayed.
</p><p>Harry caught himself glancing at Malfoy’s crotch, coughed, and turned away. “Then why do you need Ron?”
</p><p>“He’s supposed to take me to level nine. I’ve been partnered with an Unspeakable for the duration of my stay.”
</p><p>“And how long are you staying?” Harry wasn’t looking, and he didn’t see the pained expression cross Malfoy face.
</p><p>“As long as it takes.” He was able to hear Malfoy sigh. “Don’t suppose you could escort me to Granger’s office?” he asked and it was borderline polite.
</p><p>Harry was a bit flabbergasted. “Hermione? You’re going to work with Hermione?”
</p><p>“Yes, well, she was deemed the Unspeakable most able to assist me. There might be others with more potion skills or even perhaps more knowledge of muggle technology, but none with both of those.”
</p><p>And didn’t that just bring up a whole host of other questions for Harry. “And, how exactly did you become an expert in muggle technology?”
</p><p>Malfoy narrowed his eyes in what could have been irritation or merely consideration. It was hard to tell when his face betrayed so little emotion. “Uni, Potter, where else.” He shook his head. “Can you take me to Granger’s office or not?”
</p><p>“Uh, sure.” Harry stood back up and they both walked into the hall where Robards was walking.
</p><p>“Oh Potter, I’ve just heard that Weasley is out, and--” He spotted Malfoy. “I see you’ve already found him. If you could just escort Mr. Malfoy to level Nine, Ms. Granger-Weasley’s office, I would appreciate that.” And then he was hurrying back the way he came shouting for Dean Thomas and his partner Elliot.
</p><p>“The lifts are this way.” Harry pointed vaguely down the hall and they walked in silence for several minutes. “How’s Roxi?” Harry asked while waiting for the lift, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
</p><p>“Fine. Dating a new guy who may actually stick around.” Draco crossed his arms and started at the doors.
</p><p>“And, she’s still your partner?” Harry asked awkwardly. It seemed easier to talk about Roxi because she wasn’t Malfoy but Harry really didn’t know that much about her.
</p><p>“Yes. Since I will be almost exclusively in a lab, her presence wasn’t required here. But I will be sure to mention that you asked about her.”
</p><p>“Yeah, she seems,” Harry struggled to find an adjective. “Nice.”
</p><p>“Really Potter?” Malfoy raised his eyebrows. “I’m her partner and I wouldn’t call her nice. Dogged, determined, efficient, almost Griffindor-ish, but certainly not nice.”
</p><p>“I don’t know.” Harry muttered, “She puts up with you.” Thankfully, the lift doors opened on level nine, and they were both saved from further small talk. “Her office is this way.” He turned and led Malfoy down another beige hall and silently counted the doors. It was the only way he could ever remember which office was Hermione’s. Eight, nine, ten, eleven. “This one.” He knocked and they both waited.
</p><p>“Oh, um, come in!” Hermione shouted from inside.
</p><p>Harry looked over at Malfoy who was leaning against the wall and pointedly looking right back. “Alright then,” Harry said and opened the door. “Good morning, Hermione.”
</p><p>“Harry,” She smiled and stood up from her desk which was covered in neat stacks of papers. And then she saw Malfoy enter her office. He was looking down at his shoes, hands tucked deep in his pockets. Hermione straightened. “Malfoy.”
</p><p>He looked up, “Ms. Granger-Weasley.”
</p><p>Both Harry and Hermione stared at him, although Harry more so, until Hermione sighed and gestured to the two chairs in front of her desk. “Would you take a seat and we can begin?”
</p><p>Malfoy covered the space between the door and the desk in several long strides, and Harry was caught in watching his long legs. “Hermione?” He asked as Malfoy sat down, “Can I get you anything?” He was, of course, asking if she needed him to stay.
</p><p>Hermione shook her head and tucked a curl behind her ear. “Thank you Harry, but I’m alright.”
</p><p>Harry looked at Malfoy silently daring him to do or say something. But Malfoy kept his gaze fixed firmly on Hermione’s desk and said nothing. With nothing else to do, and only a growing sense of danger, Harry turned back to Hermione. “Want to grab lunch later?”
</p><p>“That sounds lovely.” She gave him a big smile. “I’ll send you a memo when I know what time I might be available.”
</p><p>“Thanks, ‘Mione.” Harry smiled back and then left.
</p><p>Draco waited, they both did really, holding their breath until the door shut. And then Hermione broke the tense silence. “I got your letter.”
</p><p>She didn’t say anything more, and finally Draco said, “I meant every word.”
</p><p>“I believe you. I don’t know that I trust you, but I believe you.” She folded her hands on the desk precisely. “I did some research. I know about Illinois, I know why you are here.”
</p><p>Draco shifted in his seat just once. “Illinois is not a secret, but I would appreciate it if you kept the other information to yourself. Nothing’s been decided, and I’d rather keep my personal life private for as long as I can.” He pulled an envelope out of his pocket. “This is from Roxi.”
</p><p>Hermione opened the letter. 

	</p><p><em>In case of hexing, please call 347-555-1549 Roxi</em>

</p><p>Draco didn’t try to read the letter as, shockingly, Roxi had refused to tell him what was in it. Hermione’s expression didn’t give anything about the contents away, and she put the slip of paper back in the envelope and then placed it carefully in her top drawer.
</p><p>“I thought we could start by going over the budget for this project. I understand that the electronics must all be purchased, and that the potion ingredients could be difficult to obtain.”
</p><p>Draco nodded. “There are proprietary aspects to the potions as well. Those I have pre brewed and should arrive at the end of the week. I am, of course, happy to answer any questions you have about the process for the rest.”
</p><p>Hermione nodded, “Have you a list of the necessary ingredients?”
</p><p>Draco took out his shrunken bag, enlarged it, and then began to riffle through his papers to find what Hermione needed. They spent the rest of the morning discussing various ingredients, the pricing, and whether any less expensive substitutions would be possible. It was, all in all, a shockingly polite and productive conversation.
</p><p>At 11:30, Hermione looked at her watch and then stood up. “I’m meeting Harry for lunch. You could join us, if you like, or I can show you the canteen.”
</p><p>“Actually,” Draco began to gather his papers together. “I was told I would have a lab. I would prefer to begin setting up, if that is an option.”
</p><p>“Of course.” Hermione nodded as Draco placed his papers carefully back in his bag. “It’s just down the hall.” They walked together silently down the hall and around a corner. It was the first room.
</p><p>Immediately upon stepping into the stark white room, Draco felt more settled. There were three cauldrons stacked on a long table, and a room of cabinets along the back wall. Feeling vaguely at home for the first time since he’d received that Owl from his mother six months ago, Draco walked up to the counter and ran his hands along the granite top. 
</p><p>“I hope this meets with your requirements,” Hermione said from the doorway.
</p><p>“It will do,” Draco replied, opening the first drawer to see a selection of knives. He placed his bag on the counter and opened the next drawer, systematically noting the range of supplies and tools. He didn’t notice when Hermione left.
</p><p>He didn’t notice when she returned either. He had spread out his tools, including the long length of black fabric, across the counter and was methodically chopping bitterroot. She watched him for several minutes, waiting to see if he would notice her presence. But Draco remained standing, back to the door and knife moving up and down.
</p><p>“You could use magic to do that,” she pointed out as he deposited the freshly cut pieces out on the fabric.
</p><p>“I don’t want to taint any of my ingredients with magic. The point of the potion is to protect the equipment from residual magic, why would I risk contaminating my potion simply to speed up the process.” He neither turned around nor sounded surprised.
</p><p>She was silent for a moment and Draco gathered up his dried crocodile heart and began dicing again. “I’ll put in a request for those items we discussed from purchasing this afternoon. Is there anything else you need for the afternoon?”
</p><p>“Will I need to be escorted to and from the lab every day? Or will I have open access?” he asked without turning.
</p><p>“You need to be escorted.”
</p><p>He paused in his dicing. “These potions are very delicate and require some precise timing. There are times when I need to be here overnight.”
</p><p>“I’ll speak with security, but they were reluctant to allow you to be in the lab on your own, so I can make no promises. I have a meeting and my own research to oversee, but if you need something, please let me know.”
</p><p>Malfoy began dicing again. “I shall endeavor not to take advantage of your hospitality.”
</p><p>He heard her sigh loudly. “It’s not hospitality, it’s good business practice.”
</p><p>He stilled again and slowly turned around, but Granger had already gone. For a moment Draco couldn’t breath. It was, perhaps, a bit premature, but the whole day had gone rather a lot better than he had imagined it would. Of course, he was only halfway through the first day, and he had yet to see Mother at the Manor which he had avoided rather pointedly for ten years. Surely that would be when the other shoe fell.
</p><p>He spent the rest of the afternoon chopping and adding all of the ingredients to one of the cauldrons with two liters of distilled water. He was cleaning up when Granger returned at the end of the day. She stepped into the room just as Draco finished wiping down the counter. “Granger,” he greeted her.
</p><p>“Malfoy.” She nodded back. “Productive day?”
</p><p>“As much as can be expected.” He wiped his hands off, picked up his bag, and approached the door. “When and where can I meet you to return to the lab tomorrow?”
</p><p>“I will meet you in the Atrium at quarter to eight, if that will work for you.”
</p><p>In truth, Draco would have preferred an earlier hour, but then, he was aware enough of his own emotions to know that he simply did not want to return to the Manor. “That will be just fine. If you could point me in the direction of the floos?”
</p><p>“Of course,” Hermione led him down the hall. “I’ve contacted the purchasing department, and most of your ingredients will be delivered to the lab tomorrow morning before 10am, a few of the restricted ones will be by Friday.”
</p><p>Malfoy nodded, hands clasped behind his back. “That will be just fine.” They walked in awkward silence the rest of the way. In the lift, they were joined by several other Unspeakables, and then on subsequent floors general Ministry employees. The awkward silence between them was covered up by their murmurings, and for Hermione the rest of the journey was relatively unremarkable. For Draco it was a very different experience.
</p><p>As long as he had been in the lab, he had been able to ignore his upcoming doom. But with each step he took towards the floo-towards the Manor- the dread settled in the pit of his stomach. A commentary from his freshman literature class suddenly began to play through his head, all about the dissolution of childhood and the corruption of Utopia. It had been a particularily difficult lecture to sit through, as he just kept thinking about childhood Christmases and family meals that morphed into torture sessions on that same dining room table and being unable to lock the door to his room against Fenrir Greyback.
</p><p>But his steps never faltered as he stepped in line for the floo, his hand remained steady as he took a pinch of powder, and his voice was even as he said, “Malfoy Manor.” And disappeared into the fire.
</p><p>The large entryway of the Manor had not changed one iota with its imposing white walls that once seemed full of light and the luxurious rugs that had once been stained red. It was as if the darkness of the Dark Lord had seeped into the stone as well as the furnishings to dull all the light from outside and the fireplace. Draco’s stomach twisted in knots at the sight.
</p><p>Narcissa was waiting for him in the dining room. “Good evening, my darling. How was your trip?”
</p><p>Draco crossed the floor and kissed his mother on the cheek. “Unremarkable, Mother. How are you?”
</p><p>She smiled with pleasure. “You look well, but thin. Are you not getting enough to eat over there? Perhaps I should send you care packages.”
</p><p>Draco tried not to stiffen, but failed. “I eat fine, Mother.” He had never given her his home address, and didn’t intend to now. “How was your day? Filled with interesting things, I hope.” He took his seat across from her rather than at the head of the table.
</p><p>Narcissa frowned. “Many. I spoke with Marcella Greengrass. Wouldn’t you prefer to take your rightful place?” She gestured to the seat next to her.
</p><p>“And how is Mrs. Greengrass? Still involved in her charity projects?” He ignored her question and sat at the seat that had always been his as a child. The plates rearranged themselves, and his wine glass filled itself.
</p><p>Narcissa didn’t say anything, but there was something disapproving in the lines around her mouth. “She’s been quite busy with the primary school. They have been raising funds to start a preschool program, something to help the children socialize.”
</p><p>“Yes,” Draco smiled grimly, “because pureblood children have such a problem socializing.”
</p><p>“It isn’t just pureblood children, some children of muggleborn parentage have enrolled in the last several years.” Narcissa defended politely.
</p><p>Malfoy understood the rebuke in her words. “How progressive of you.” And then he lapsed into angry silence.
</p><p>The house elves brought out the first course, a squash soup Draco had favored as a child. “How is your project with the Ministry going?” Narcissa asked as there wasn’t much else she could ask about without instigating an argument.
</p><p>“Fine. I’ll be working with an Unspeakable for the duration and outfitting all of their department as well as the Aurors. It seems as if we may work well together, although it’s hard to make a determination after only one day.” He sipped at his soup slowly.
</p><p>“It sounds as if you will be very busy. I do hope you will have time to spend with me.”
</p><p>“Of course, Mother,” Draco demurred.
</p><p>“And Astoria,” she added.
</p><p>Draco put down his spoon, no longer interested in eating. “Have the negotiations progressed so far?”
</p><p>“She has agreed to a courtship period, to determine if the two of you will suit.” It was no less than Draco expected, and yet the news was still disappointing. Thank goodness he hadn’t tried to eat all the soup, or he might have found himself sick all over the table. “It is a very good connection for us, a chance to reestablish the family name.”
</p><p>“Because that is the important part when selecting a mate,” he muttered as the elves replaced his soup with roast chicken and vegetables.
</p><p>Luckily Narcissa ignored his comment. “I understand things in America are different, and that you may have developed some bad habits, but do try to comport yourself in a manner befitting of your name.”
</p><p>“Yes, wouldn’t want to tarnish the Malfoy name, not as if Father didn’t do his fair share of that.”
</p><p>“That’s enough!” Narcissa finally lost her temper. “Yes, your father made some less than perfect decisions. But that does not excuse your behavior, and I will not tolerate this petty criticism. You are twenty-eight, old enough to have outgrown this childish behavior.”
</p><p>Draco jerked back as if hit by the forcefulness of her tone. He was, of course, being childish and at twenty-eight there were many behaviors he should have put aside. But he still felt churlish and no longer interested in eating. “Of course, Mother. I do believe the international travel has tired me more than I expected. Please excuse me.” He stood up from the table and walked determinedly out of the room.
</p><p>Weatherby met him in the hall. “Master Draco’s room has been prepared.”
</p><p>Draco looked up the stairs towards the hidden hall. “Wonderful, I do so love returning to places in intense misery. Whatever would I do if I had been given a guest bedroom or, horror of all horrors, a hotel room.
</p><p>“Master?” Weatherby cocked his head in confusion.
</p><p>“I see sarcasm still escapes you, Weatherby. No matter. Perhaps I will adjourn to the Blue Parlour, for an aperitif.”
</p><p>“Mistress has Suze, if Master would like,” Weatherby offered.
</p><p>“Master would not.” Draco waved his hand dismissively and walked away. The Blue Parlour was upstairs, at the opposite end of the hall from Draco’s childhood home. It was small, without a fireplace, and absurdly filled with childhood relics. Draco’s first broom hung in a glass cabinet, the bookcases were filled with old primers and picture books, the bureau contained old schoolwork and broken quills. Voldemort had no interest in a room designed for a seven year old, and thus it was the only room in the house that did not contain deeply upsetting memories.
</p><p>And, as Draco had finally come of age, it also contained alcohol. He mixed himself a gimlet, and then took a seat on the sofa. How had it come to this? How had he ended up in this terrible place again? What compelled him to even read that stupid letter, let alone aquiesce to his mother’s wishes?
</p><p>He would have liked to blame Roxi, but the truth was Draco held family just as highly as Roxi did. She just had a far less complicated relationship with hers. And she had rather helpfully pointed out that this was an opportunity for him to reconcile with his mother. The discussion with his therapist had helped clarify those thoughts, but she had expressed some concern about Draco’s resources in the area. A lack of friends, a lack of safe space, only the promise of work as a coping mechanism, and really a rather poor one at that.
</p><p>So was it any wonder that in less than half an hour in this house he had managed to revert to a petulant teenager?
</p><p>He sipped at the gimlet, and looked up to see Narcissa in the doorway, dithering without actually managing to look like she was. “I realize that this is not the life any of us would have wished for, and that after so long I do not know you as well as I once did. But, I have always wanted and worked for the best life for you.”
</p><p>Draco put down his glass and walked to the door. He wrapped his arms around her small frame and held her close. “I know, Mother.”
</p><p>After a moment, she stepped back, straightened herself and wiped at her cheeks. “I am glad you have returned. Perhaps, after you have had some time to recover, we can have a picnic.”
</p><p>“I would like that, Mother.” Draco nodded but did not smile. This was proving to be more of a challenge then he felt able to overcome.
</p><p>*
</p><p>He was early to the Ministry in the morning, having not slept well on the sofa in the Blue Parlour and deciding to simply give up the pretense around 4am. Draco showered, dressed in a different suit, and flooed to the Ministry. The Atrium was deserted when he arrived, which was rather to be expected at 5 in the morning. And rather then spend nearly three hours leaning and lurking, Draco opted to go out. He left via the main entrance and stepped out in the morning air of Muggle London.
</p><p>Some things were exactly the same, the quick pace of the few people out so early, the lack of eye contact, the self absorption that would be interrupted by the odd polite murmur. Some things were completely different, the smell, the distinct old feeling to the buildings, and something that Draco could only describe as being distinctly British. Since he’d never really spent much time in Muggle London, Draco had thought it would seem so very non-magical. But after a decade living in the United States, in muggle and magical and mixed areas, he could identify the Britishness that flowed through muggle and magical London.
</p><p>He walked to a nearby cafe and bought a large coffee, because mornings were for coffee. And then set about looking for a grocery store where he wandered the aisles until half six and beyond bored. There were a few things that he still needed for the lab though, things he had taken for granted in the American lab like the plumbing and the washer and dryer. He picked up a good sized bucket, another bottle of distilled water, and several bottles of cleaning products.
</p><p>In one of the windows on the street, Draco caught sight of himself, and the strange combination of janitor and stockbroker. He shook his head, bought another large coffee, and went back to the Ministry to lurk and lean.
</p><p>It was with a large sigh of relief that Draco saw Granger thirty minutes later. She was early, and a less desperate Draco might have thought it an attempt to wrong foot him. But after thirty minutes of leaning, his coffee was gone and the curious looks of strangers were starting to grate on his nerves. He had also started thinking about Astoria, which had brought about all kinds of upsetting feelings.
</p><p>“You’re early,” Granger said when she caught up with him near the lifts. She had a little moue of a frown on her face, and once again, Draco briefly considered the wrong-footing.
</p><p>“Yes, well, the time difference and all that.”
</p><p>“Isn’t it 3am in New York?”
</p><p>Draco grimaced at being caught in his lie. “I’m not known for keeping regular hours.” Which was actually true. He kept a cot and had spent days on end living out of the vending machines and Auror’s showers in New York. 
</p><p>“Why do you have a bucket full of cleaning supplies?” She asked as they got on the lift.
</p><p>“I need a place to wash some of my tools.”
</p><p>Granger looked confused for a moment and then nodded. “Because of the whole magic thing, yes, that makes sense. By why didn’t you tell me yesterday, I could have requisitioned some from the warehouse for you.”
</p><p>“I didn’t want to risk anyone using a summoning spell, and to be honest, it slipped my mind.” Draco admitted. “My other lab is equipped with sinks and washing machines for just this reason. I didn’t even think about not having them here.”
</p><p>“Save your receipts. I can expense them for you,” she said as they approached the lab
</p><p>“Of course.” Draco walked into the room and hung his jacket by the door.
</p><p>“Is there anything you need this morning?
</p><p>Draco walked over to his cauldron to check on the steeping potion. “Not this morning, no. but I will need to make a trip to the hardware store this afternoon or tomorrow to purchase the parts for the generator.”
</p><p>“A generator? What will it need a generator for?”
</p><p>Draco looked up at her in surprise. “For electricity of course. Unless the Ministry is planning to have some installed, all the computers will need their own dedicated powersource.”
</p><p>“And we can’t simply use magic because they cancel each other out.” She was nodding along. “I see. I have meetings with my research assistants this afternoon, but I can escort you out at lunch and Harry can bring you back when you’ve finished the shopping.”
</p><p>Great, more time with Potter. But Draco nodded agreement and then proceeded to ignore Granger until she left. He set about washing his fabric, gave the bitterroot a stir and checked that his drying herbs were ready to be turned. And then he turned his attention to preparing the second cauldron to brew the protective portion of the potion. He dusted the bottom with Wartcap powder and then added ten milliliters of distilled water dripped slowly along the rim. Too much water and the potion would take insanely long to distill, but too little and there wouldn’t be enough to coat the electronics and he would have to brew additional batches.
</p><p>A little after ten, a large packaged dinged at the door, and Draco had to scramble to catch it. “Bloody bastards.” He muttered. Warehousing had used a spell, which of course they would, but now he would have to inspect each bit meticulously for residual magic.
</p><p>He had finished that painful task and begun sketching out the generator when Granger returned at noon. “Sorry,” She bustled in, “lost track of time a bit.” She inhaled and scrunched up her nose. “Is that tea tree?”
</p><p>Draco closed his eyes and took a breath. Tea tree? There was perhaps the faintest hint from when he had cleaned the counters earlier. “I believe it is an ingredient in one of the cleaners I purchased.” Perhaps he had just adjusted to the smell?
</p><p>Granger swallowed. “Ah, well, ready for lunch?”
</p><p>With a snap, Draco closed his notebook. “Yes,” and stepped out of the room.
</p><p>“How are things going?”
</p><p>It was on the tip of Draco’s tongue to make a withering comment about small talk, but then he remembered he was trying not to piss off all the people around him here or get fired or end up accused of something outlandish. Although, he thought with a wry smile, something reasonable would not be amiss. “Not much change from last night. The bitter root will need to steep for another eighteen hours or so and then I can begin distilling it. I’ve started the second part, but it also needs to steep for twenty hours.”
</p><p>“There seems to be a lot of steeping and distilling in your process.” Granger replied. “Wouldn’t it be simpler to make a paste that can dry?”
</p><p>“It would, but a paste is significantly thicker than an oil and takes much longer to dry when applied. It runs the risk of degrading the technology.” Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath on the lift. “I know that you are highly intelligent, Granger. But I have spent years perfecting this method. It may seem overly complicated and tedious, but I promise there is reason to what appears to be madness,” he snarked.
</p><p>Granger rolled her eyes. “Still the same, I see, quick to see criticism where I was only being curious.”
</p><p>“Don’t take it personally.” Draco scowled, but his criticism was mostly self directed. “As I am sure Roxi can attest, I don’t play well with others.”
</p><p>“And you wonder why security won’t let you walk to and from your lab.”
</p><p>“Not at all. I understand that perfectly.” Draco’s left arm itched slightly at the allusion, but he refused to actually touch it.
</p><p>And the lift opened to the canteen, and Granger stepped out. She looked expectantly at him, but Draco merely touched another button and then leaned against the wall while the doors shut. He had exactly zero interest in eating in a place surrounded by hundreds of people who would like nothing better than to see him choke on a sandwich.
</p><p>Draco stepped out in the Atrium where a few other people were also making their way out of the ministry for lunch. No one gave him more than a passing glance though. Once outside, he pulled out his mobile (the true inspiration for his computer project, and the first test subject) to look up a hardware store. A and H Brass in Paddington seemed like it might have most of the things Draco needed and according to the internet, a wide range of interesting restaurants within a short distance of the station. Not that there wouldn’t be interesting places near all of the station, but it seemed as good a reason as any to go to Paddington.
</p><p>After a quick and tasty lunch at a sandwich shop, he found the hardware store and wandered up and down the aisles until he found all the parts he needed for a decently sized generator and motor. The idea being that he would use magic to turn a hand crank attached to the motor which would power the generator. It wasn’t an ideal solution, but in a place with no electricity, it was the best idea he’d thought of.
</p><p>Besides, if the Ministry wanted to improve upon Draco’s design, then they could invest the resources themselves rather than relying on a contractor they didn’t trust enough to give full time access to a lab. Bags in hand, Draco got back on the tube for his return trip to the Ministry.
</p><p>If he had gotten some strange looks carrying his bucket the other morning, it had been hard to tell if people were staring at him or at what he carried. When he returned with his bags of mechanical components, it was easy to see that all of the few employees moving through the atrium and lifts were transfixed by the bags. Trying to ignore the looks, Draco stepped into the lift again and made for the Auror department, where he was sure Potter would be all set to ask stupid questions like why not shrink the bags down or enchant them to follow him.
</p><p>Harry was filling out paperwork when Draco approached his office. Ron was still out with the flu, but Hermione insisted he was on the mend and would be returning tomorrow. Harry could hear Malfoy out in the hall, laboring just a little underneath at least three bags. Harry sighed and shook his head. It was bad enough he was stuck on desk duty while Ron was recovering. Did that misery also have to be compounded by escorting Malfoy across the Ministry every day?
</p><p>Surprisingly, Malfoy knocked on the door. “Come in.” Harry turned in his chair and watched Malfoy with his bags of parts.
</p><p>“Potter,” Malfoy said by way of greeting. “When you’ve a minute.” And then he put down his bags in the corner and sat down at Ron’s desk.
</p><p>For a moment, Harry considered making him wait while he finished revising his form, but seeing Malfoy in Ron’s chair, foot propped up on his knee and waiting patiently, rankled. Malfoy was not supposed to be patient, he was supposed to be demanding and haughty. Besides, two days of paperwork was enough to make anyone a bit stir crazy. “We can go now, I’m not really doing anything.” He stood up.
</p><p>“Oh,” Malfoy said, clearly surprised. They both made to pick up the paper bags. Harry got one and Draco snatched the other two. “I can get them.” He scowled.
</p><p>“They look heavy. I can help.” Harry replied with exactly zero intention of relinquishing the bag now that the challenge had been issued. In fact, based on the intensely and suddenly angry expression on Malfoy’s face, he thought he might actually be willing to physically fight over it.
</p><p>“I don’t need help,” Draco insisted with a snarl.
</p><p>“Everyone needs help sometimes.” They were nearly nose to nose.
</p><p>The stress and anxiety was clearly getting to Draco. A violent red creeped up his neck and he visibly bristled at the insinuation. It didn’t help that Draco’s mind healer said the exact same thing at every other session. “Don’t use any magic. Those are very delicate, and if I have to spend the rest of my day scrubbing off residual magic I can personally guarantee your computer will never work right,” he hissed and stalked off into the hall.
</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes. It wouldn’t be a day that ended in y if Malfoy didn’t make some overblown threat. “Don’t worry, Hermione already told me the magic interferes with the electricity. She’ll be quite angry if I do something to interfere with her research tools.”
</p><p>“See that you don’t!”
</p><p>“Merlin, are you always this prickly? Or has shopping with muggles put you off?”
</p><p>Draco could feel the muscle in his cheek twitch. Roxi called it his impending doom muscle as it always seemed to precipitate an unpleasant event. “I’ll have you know, Potter, that I live in New York, one of the most integrated cities in the world. I don’t think there is a single magic only shop in the entire city. Thus, my irritation cannot be caused by any associations I made earlier. No, my irritation comes from being surrounded by people with little understanding or respect for the task I am undertaking and a seeming insistence on making everything harder.” He seethed.
</p><p>“So, just a normal day in the office for you?”
</p><p>“Fuck off, Potter.” Draco snatched at the bag in Harry’s hands, managed to get a firm hold on the side in an effort to reestablish control over the moment except that the bag tore in a neat line from the handle all the way to the bottom..
</p><p>They both stared in varying degrees of horror as wires, gears, connectors, and even a crank scattered loudly across the floor.
</p><p>“Fuck.” Draco whispered to himself.
</p><p>“What’s got you all in a twist?” Harry nearly snarled as he squatted down on the floor to pick up the mess, depositing the wires in one of Draco’s bags.
</p><p>Slowly, Draco sank to the floor and began to help. As he was dropping connectors into a bag, he saw Harry’s watch. “You’re still wearing that?”
</p><p>Harry looked down at where Draco was looking. “Oh, yes, well, it’s quite a nice watch, now that it isn’t cursed.”
</p><p>“What did you tell them?” Draco wasn’t sure why he asked, except that he wanted to know and was desperately afraid to know.
</p><p>“Oh, well, I told them you sorted it. Other experts wanted to give it a try, and I told them Hermione had found a way to contain the dark energy. But, since they were likely to talk to Ron who would know it was a lie, I had to tell him the truth.” Harry smiled slightly and shrugged at Draco. “It was kind of impressive, what you did. Everyone else just started casting at it, but you took the time to understand the mechanics. Even Hermione was impressed.”
</p><p>Draco reached out and ran one finger across the leather band. “It’s a beautiful piece, inside and out.” He sighed.
</p><p>In what might have been a moment of brilliant insight into Malfoy, Harry offered,“We could stop by the kitchenette for tea. You seem like you need tea.” 
</p><p>Draco gathered up the rest of the fallen items and piled them into a bag before picking it up, hands under the bottom since it was much heavier now. “I appreciate the offer, but I would much rather be able to do my job. I dislike having to be escorted like a poorly trained dog who might go rabid at any moment.” He stood up, leaving the other bad for Harry.
</p><p>Harry laughed. “Well, the rabid part seems about right, but I don’t think you’re a dog.” And then he picked up the second bag, hands on the bottom just like Draco. “Although, you’ve certainly got a lot of bite to you.”
</p><p>Something warm tingled in Draco’s belly that felt an awful lot like relief. “Just what are you saying, Potter?”
</p><p>Harry stopped laughing and frowned a bit. “You know, I’m really not sure.” Although, he had the distinct feeling that he had been trying to say Draco was quite fit. “Shall we?” He nodded in the direction of the lifts.
</p><p>They walked in silence the rest of the way, but what Draco had assumed would have been a painfully awkward moment simply wasn’t. It was as if just the mention of tea was enough to thaw, just a little, the icy chasm between them.
</p><p>“Is this the same fabric you had before?” Harry asked as they stepped into the lab.
</p><p>For a brief moment, Draco was confused, and then he realized Harry must mean the incident with the watch. “Oh, yes. I quite like the size of this one and it doesn’t leave lint all over my herbs.”
</p><p>“I thought you were a Dark Artefacts Specialist?” Harry put his bag down on the back counter next to Draco’s.
</p><p>Draco pulled things out and grouped them together according to how they would be assembled. “I am. I went into the Auror Academy with the designation, but there’s less call for that sort of thing in America. And when there is, it’s often potion based. I spend a lot of my time on research and development. Reverse Engineering dark potions and brewing up antidotes, that sort of thing. Although, lately I’ve been experimenting with protective gear.”
</p><p>“Oh? We always just cast a few spells.” Harry  began sorting his bag.
</p><p>“Yes, but you are usually in Wizarding London. There isn’t really a Wizarding New York. Wands make it much harder to keep things secret. On the other hand, potions can be disguised in a coffee cup or a bottle of aspirin, much less conspicuous.”
</p><p>“I suppose it’s cultural.”
</p><p>Draco nodded in agreement. “It’s funny to me, over there, the muggles have all of these race issues and fights about religion that just aren’t as important in England. But they don’t have much pureblood culture. They know about it, but the wizarding families there just aren’t as old as here, and they never had status like here either. So it’s not a thing. The Dark Lord would have had a tough time gaining followers over there.”
</p><p>Harry nodded. He hadn’t been across the ocean, but he had traveled to France, Germany, and Spain for several cases. Siestas and food and attitude, they were different in different places. “Sometimes I forget all of that wasn’t an international threat. I mean, it was such a huge deal here, a war and everything. But it didn’t even cross the channel.”
</p><p>“It did, but not really.” Draco stepped back and admired their organization. “Looks good, Potter.”
</p><p>“What are you doing with all this stuff?” He gestured to the expansive piles.
</p><p>“The Unspeables have asked me to create five computer stations and the Auror department wants three. I’ll have to build eight separate generators to power each of those computers. Out of these parts.”
</p><p>Harry held up a connector. “And you’re going to do that with these?”
</p><p>Draco scowled. “Yes. I need those to build my generators.” He plucked it from Harry's grasp and replaced it in the appropriate pile.
</p><p>“How do you know about all this stuff?” Harry asked, leaning over to inspect the pile of gears. “I mean, I wouldn’t even know how to begin, and I’d like to think I’m somewhat handy.” He didn’t look at Malfoy as he said this, caught up in how all the parts would somehow make something much more complicated.
</p><p>Draco on the other hand was staring. Granger had asked questions, Head Auror Robards had asked questions, but no one had shown such blatant interest. Potter was leaning over, hands clasped behind his back to keep from touching, but looking, intently, at the parts. His face was so close to the gears and Draco saw the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck and waved out on top. Potter’s shoulders filled out his shirt, and his hands were strong and calloused. Draco swallowed; he had a thing for shoulders and hands. “I went to school to learn this stuff.” He lingered over the word stuff, meant it to be mocking but it didn’t quite come out that way.
</p><p>Harry turned his head to the side to look at Malfoy, and Malfoy felt heat creep up the back of his neck again.
</p><p>They were both saved from the moment by Hermione. “I hope it’s okay to leave a little early, Malfoy, but I need to pick up Rose.” Her voice trailed off as she saw Harry and Draco in the room. “Harry, what are you doing here?”
</p><p>Harry saw Draco bristle and realized in a second moment of insight that Malfoy found this line of questioning intrusive. But whether it was because he thought Hermione was accusing him of having kept Harry in the lab or just because Hermione had entered his space uninvited was unclear. He straightened slowly and faced Hermione. “I was asking Malfoy about his project. I had no idea that he was building generators. It’s sort of fascinating, don’t you think?”
</p><p>Hermione glanced between the two of them, and Harry saw Draco spine go ridgid as if he were being judged. “It is a very complicated process. I feel like I don’t know very much about the particulars of the project even though we’ve been planning it for several months now.”
</p><p>Draco turned around and inspected his cauldrons. The steeping bitterroot  would be ready in the morning for distillation, and he could add the powdered boom berry to the wartcap powder then too. He was measuring out the dried berries into his mortar and looking every bit as if he were ignoring the conversation.
</p><p>“So I’ve gathered. How is Ron feeling?”
</p><p>“Should be back to work tomorrow. He wanted to come in today, but I insisted he wait a little longer. Are those boom berries?” She asked.
</p><p>For the first time, Malfoy turned his full attention on Granger. He hadn’t started to grind the berries, and they had little scent in their current state. “Yes,” he said, highly suspicious of her nose. “Why?”
</p><p>Hermione seemed to recognize her mistake. “Oh, I think my nose must be on overdrive. Are you coming to dinner tonight, Harry?”
</p><p>“Are you sure Ron isn’t contagious?” Harry asked hesitantly. It wouldn’t do to enjoy a pleasant evening with them if it just meant trading the flu back and forth. Harry could wait to see Ron another twelve hours.
</p><p>“Oh yes,” Hermione nodded. “He took a potion yesterday morning, it only takes twenty four hours to work.”
</p><p>“Then absolutely.”
</p><p>“Are you ready, Malfoy?”
</p><p>He really wasn’t. “Of course.” Harry was looking at Malfoy when he said it, saw the tightness in his shoulders and the way he was almost but not quite gritting his teeth. He watched Malfoy gather up a few belongings and pack them with very deliberate movements, as if each motion needed to be carefully calculated to prevent excess. It was sort of intoxicating to watch.
</p><p>“How are things progressing?” Hermione asked Draco as they stepped out into the hall.
</p><p>“As planned. I had hoped to get a little farther on the generators today, but some delays are to be expected, I suppose.” Draco gave a small shrug.
</p><p>“What’s causing the delay?” Hermione asked a bit sharply.
</p><p>Draco’s eyes flicked over to Harry. “Access to materials. Nothing that should slow the process immensely.”
</p><p>“What materials are you missing? If you need something sooner, you need only tell me.” Hermione insisted.
</p><p>Escorted like a dog, that’s what Malfoy had said. Harry had thought he simply found it demeaning to have to be walked back and forth. But it was more than that, he was being told when he could and couldn’t work. Access to materials indeed! Malfoy pressed his lips together in a fine line. “How much time do you usually spend in your lab?” Harry interrupted suddenly.
</p><p>Malfoy’s head jerked around. “My work is very important to me.” He avoided the question.
</p><p>Harry nodded, understanding the lack of answer. “I know. When I’m working a case and Records is closed, but I need a file, it’s pretty frustrating to have to wait until morning for someone to come in and fetch it for me. It’s not that uncommon for some of us to sleep in our offices when there’s a big case on.”
</p><p>Malfoy was openly staring. He had never even considered telling Granger that he often slept in his lab, that his lab was more home then his apartment, and that being denied access felt like being treated as a child.
</p><p>Hermione suddenly caught on. “You were expecting more access to the lab! I’m sorry. I really wish those dunderheads in security would reply to my owl.” She looked at Harry pointedly, but Harry wasn’t exactly sure why.
</p><p>“It’s fine.” Malfoy said, suddenly more agreeable. “I shouldn’t have expected the same schedule to work here as at home.” They were at the flooes. “Thank you for the escort. Until tomorrow.” And then he stepped in the flames and was gone.
</p><p>“Harry!” Hermione elbowed him. “You’ve put me in a very tough position.”
</p><p>“What?” Harry asked.
</p><p>“I can’t give him more time in the lab.” She let out a deep sigh. “I had a hard enough time getting him access to the department at all. Unrestricted access? Our head of security’s head would explode!”
</p><p>“That’s just ridiculous.” Harry scowled.
</p><p>“He’s Marked! You can’t tell me it’s ridiculous to consider him a security threat. Not only did he almost kill Ron, I was tortured in his home, and then there’s that whole bathroom incident.”
</p><p>“That’s unfair! I didn’t know what that spell did.”
</p><p>Hermione sighed loudly. “It doesn’t matter what you did or didn’t know, the point is that people think you tried to kill him. And nobody wants to give a former DeathEater a single bit of breathing room. Quite frankly, he should count his blessings he can be in that room alone. You are still coming for dinner, aren’t you?”
</p><p>“Of course.”
</p><p>“Good.” Hermione threw a bit of floo powder in the flame and was gone.
</p><p>Her words were reasonable. All of those things about Malfoy were true, but why give him anything? Why trust him at all in that case? He threw in his powder and then stepped out of Hermione and Ron’s fireplace. “I’m not trying to pick a fight, I’m just saying I don’t think he is the same.”
</p><p>“Hey,” Ron waved from the couch. “I picked up curry. Hermione went to get the plates.”
</p><p>“Thanks.” Harry trailed into the kitchen. “What made you decide to let him do this big project in the first place?”
</p><p>Hermione had her head in a cupboard. “For one thing, what he managed to create is pretty miraculous. Integrating muggle technology and magic? It’s like finding a way to mix oil and water so they never separate. And I did a lot of research. I don’t think I would have approved the project if I didn’t think he had learned his lesson.”
</p><p>“What do you mean?” Harry didn’t like the way she phrased it, learned his lesson as if he were a child still in school.
</p><p>“Well, for one thing he studied Mechanical Engineering at Uni.”
</p><p>“So?”
</p><p>“So, it’s a muggle university, University of Illinois, and they are extremely well known for their Engineering programs. The amount of maths he would have had to learn to pass a single class? He couldn’t just magic his way through it. And he had to live with Muggles for five years. I don’t know that Ron could have done that.” She pulled out the plates. “But the way he acts now, expecting all that access and he gets so territorial over his supplies? He still thinks he’s better than everyone. I don’t know. It’s hard to work with him, and I guess I agree with security.”
</p><p>Harry touched the watch. “I guess I just disagree. He seems like he’s changed to me. He was patient.” Although, he was also quick to fight. But then, Malfoy was always quick to fight, even as a child. “He seems to have a lot of respect for muggle things, and I know he spends a lot of time around them now. And, and I know he understands why he can’t be in the lab all the time, and even though it frustrates him, I think he’s respectful of that too.” Harry shrugged. “I don’t know that I could be as patient as him in the same situation. He seems different.”
</p><p>Hermione sagged against the counter. “There isn’t anything I can do about any of that.”
</p><p>“I wasn’t saying you should.” Harry took the plates from her. “I didn’t have a point to make. I was just thinking.”
</p><p>“Great,” Hermione smiled at him. “Now I feel all emotional and like I need to invite him to lunch.” They walked about into the living room.
</p><p>“Who are you inviting to lunch?” Ron asked.
</p><p>“Malfoy.” Hermione scrunched her nose up. “I know, I can hardly believe I said it either. Can we just eat and have a nice evening? I have been craving curry all day.”
</p><p>“You’ve eaten curry every day for the last five days.” Ron pointed out before shoveling a forkful in his mouth.
</p><p>She made a face at him. “And whose fault is that?” He grinned sheepishly back at her, and Harry laughed out loud.
</p><p>*
</p><p>On Friday, Hermione had a free hour and came into the lab to see how Malfoy was doing. He was at a cauldron, testing the consistency of his protective potion. It clung to his finger in long strings that oozed slowly back into the cauldron.
</p><p>“That seems like it’s coming along.” Hermione stepped into the lab.
</p><p>“Yes.” Draco nodded, “Another twenty hours or so, and it will be finished. I will need to come in tomorrow for an hour or so to bottle the potion.”
</p><p>“Of course.” Hermione nodded, thinking about what Harry said. “What time do you think? I will meet you in the Atrium.”
</p><p>“Around 11.” Draco replied, “Although 10 might be better.”
</p><p>Hermione nodded again and then walked over to the counter along the back wall. Draco had finished assembling the first three generators and they were lined up waiting for the computers to be attached. “Are these the generators?” She placed a hand on the crank. “They look marvelous.”
</p><p>“Yes, I haven’t been able to test them yet. But next week I should be able to begin coating the electronics. If everything goes well, I should be able to test one by the end of the day Wednesday. Thursday at the latest.”
</p><p>“It sounds like you are making good time.” She slowly turned the crank on the first generator. There was a low whine of warning.
</p><p>Draco turned at the sound, and threw himself in front of Hermione just as the generator exploded. Pieces flew through the air, one colliding against Hermione’s head, another shredding the robes along her arm. A large piece shattered against her leg, and Hermione started to fall. Draco pulled her roughly against him, tucking himself around her as the last of the parts rained down.
</p><p>When the last of the clattering finished, Draco pulled Hermione up. “We need to get you to St. Mungo’s.”
</p><p>Hermione nodded in a daze. “Yes, and Ron, I need Ron.”
</p><p>“Of course.” Draco assisted her to the doorway, stopping only briefly to grab his suit coat. He pulled it on as they stumbled down the hall, and then he swooped Hermione up in his arms. “Can I apparate from your office?”
</p><p>“No, but there’s an emergency portkey in my desk. Everyone in research has one.” Everyone except Draco, but Draco didn’t dwell on that thought. He hurried down the hall, pushed open the door, and set Hermione at her desk.
</p><p>She opened a drawer and pulled out a bent paperclip and activated the portkey. She fixed Malfoy with a worried expression. “Don’t worry, I’ll send your husband along shortly.” Hermione sniffed just once and disappeared to St. Mungos.
</p><p>Draco ran to the lift, violently punching the button and pulling on his earring. As soon as the lift opened, he darted inside and began smashing the four button and the close door button. It was agonizing to stand and wait as the lift carried him up, and as soon as the doors started to open, Draco was squeezing through them and running down the hall, dodging Aurors as best he could without slowing down.
</p><p>And then he was at Potter and Weasley’s office. “Your wife is at St. Mungo’s,” he gasped out.
</p><p>“What?”
</p><p>“I think she’s fine, but there was an accident, and she’s at St. Mungo’s and she was asking for you.”
</p><p>Ron looked at Harry and then yanked out his own emergency portkey. “Go.” Harry gestured. “I’ll be right behind.” And Ron was gone.
</p><p>Harry looked at Draco and considered the options. There was a bit of panic in Malfoy’s expression, in his flushed cheeks and heaving chest. He must have run all this way. And that was that decision made, Harry got out his own portkey. “Well, are you coming with?”
</p><p>For a moment, Draco hesitated. “Alright.” He took hold of the old shoelace and then they were both twisting into the darkness and straightening out in St. Mungo’s. Draco dropped the string, Harry tucked it into his pocket, and they both stepped up to admitting.
</p><p>“Mr. Potter!” The young mediwitch squeaked. “Mrs. Granger-Weasley is in room eight.” She pointed down the hall. Harry nodded a quick thanks and they were down the hall.
</p><p>Harry walked straight into the room, but Draco stayed outside. He leaned his shoulder against the wall and waited for nearly ten minutes. A nurse came and went in that time, and then Harry stepped out in the hall.
</p><p>“She’s gonna be fine.”
</p><p>Draco sucked in a deep breath but didn’t look at Harry. “And the baby?” He asked in a bare whisper, afraid to ask and more desperate to know.
</p><p>“How do you know that?” Harry dropped his voice.
</p><p>“Roxi has sisters.” Draco shrugged, eyes still glued to the floor. “Is the baby okay?”
</p><p>“Yeah,” Harry exhaled. “Yeah, the baby’s okay.”
</p><p>“Good.” Draco straightened and nodded more to himself then Harry. “That’s good. I need to get back to my lab.” He started down the hall.
</p><p>“Hermione told us what you did,” Harry shouted after him, and Draco faltered. “Why? Why’d you do it?”
</p><p>Draco turned and walked back, his eyes now fixed on Harry. He pitched his voice as low as possible and said, “For the baby.”
</p><p>“Wait here.” Harry ducked back in the room, and Draco could hear him say, “I’m taking Malfoy back to the lab. I’ll figure out what happened.” And then he was back at Draco’s side, and they were both walking as fast as possible without actually running to the apparition point.
</p><p>“What happened?” Harry asked as they arrived at the Ministry.
</p><p>“Granger came into the lab. She was looking at one of the generators, turned the crank and the whole thing exploded.”
</p><p>“What would cause that?” Harry asked.
</p><p>Draco fixed him with a stare. “Magic. If the generator was working correctly and created electricity, magic would cause it to explode.”
</p><p>They hurried even faster to Draco’s lab. It looked like a very small bomb had gone off, some bits of the generator were still smoking. Draco put his hand up, blocking the room. “Me first.” He stepped around Harry, careful of the half melted plastic and metal, going only so far as to his bag which had been protected by the large counter in the middle. He removed his glasses, put them on, and slowly inspected the room.
</p><p>There was magic everywhere, laced through all of the generators, spelled across the unassembled pieces, on his specialty fabric, and perhaps most devastatingly, all over the cauldrons. The generators took a day or so to assemble, but the potion, an entire week’s worth of work, destroyed. “You can come in.” He took off the glasses and handed them to Harry. Harry put them on and looked around the room. “It’s all ruined. I’ll have to start from scratch. No, first I’ll have to decontaminate the room, and then I’ll have to start over.” He slumped onto his stool.
</p><p>“Who would do this?”
</p><p>“Everyone hates me Potter. It’d be a shorter list to ask who doesn’t have any angry vendetta or legitimate hatred of me.”
</p><p>Harry took off the glasses and handed them to Draco.
</p><p>“You can tell Granger that I won’t need to come in tomorrow. She needn’t worry about an escort for me.”
</p><p>Harry looked at him, at the slump of his shoulders and neck. His eyes were unfocused on the counter in front of him, and his hands clasped tightly between his legs, as if it took all his effort to remain still. And, as Harry continued to look it clearly did.
</p><p>Draco suddenly jumped off the stool. “Fuck!” He cried kicking it over. It thudded against the cauldron, tipping it over and spilling the sticky potion. He wrenched around looking for something else to throw, and that was when Harry saw it, a dark stain on the lower left of Draco’s back.
</p><p>“Stop.” Harry grabbed Draco’s left arm and touched the stain. His fingers came away damp and pink. “You’re bleeding.” He gently tugged at the jacket sleeve. “Take this off.” He said, referring to the waistcoat. Draco slowly undid the buttons, and Harry helped him slide his arms from the holes. The silky lining was torn, stained with blood and bits of melted plastic. The white shirt underneath was dark red. “You should have said something.”
</p><p>“Doesn’t matter.” Draco scowled.
</p><p>“Of course it matters. You’re injured.”
</p><p>Draco jerked away from Harry. “In the same accident that injured Granger. You think anyone here is going to care about me? Someone snuck into my lab and cast spells all over everything. Even if they didn’t understand the repercussions of their actions, they knew no magic was to be used in this room, they had malicious intent towards me. And an innocent bystander-- a war hero--was injured in the process. Even if no one accuses me of malicious intent, they’ll claim my project is dangerous.” He kicked the cabinets and then clutched the counter. “My life’s work, destroyed by stupid, bigoted anger.”
</p><p>“You would certainly know about stupid, bigoted anger.” Harry shot back. He was accusing ministry employees of sabotage. And, while Harry was no stranger to back handed Ministry dealings, things had changed since the war.
</p><p>Draco froze. “I shouldn’t have come here.” He straightened and retrieved his stained jacket. A quick cleaning spell and then a color change spell and it looked in reasonable shape. And then he was stepping into the hall, his hands closed tightly on the door frame, and he said through gritted teeth, “Escort me to the lift.”
</p><p>They walked in angry silence. Harry punched the button, and Draco got in alone. Anger still running high, Harry went back to Hermione’s office. He sat down at her desk, head in his hands and breathing ragged. There, he spotted a note in the corner, pressed flat.
</p><p><em>In case of hexing, please call 347-555-1549 Roxi</em>
</p><p>Hermione kept a cell phone in case her parents needed to get in touch with her, but it was never on in the office. She kept it in her purse, which was still hanging on it’s hook by the door. This wasn’t a hexing, exactly, but Harry took the note and Hermione’s purse and went back to the hospital.
</p><p>She was discharged later that evening, all the tests normal, and Ron nervously hovering. Harry had put the note in his pocket and kept running his hand along the fold while they ate curry again. Ron tucked Hermione into bed, and Harry took the mobile. He said good night when Ron came back down the stairs, and apparated to Grimmauld Place where he stood on the street and made a phone call.
</p><p>“Yeah?” A harried voice came on the line.
</p><p>“Uh, is this Roxi?” Harry clutched the note and the phone.
</p><p>“Who’s this?”
</p><p>“Uh, Harry Potter.”
</p><p>There was a heartbeat of silence. “Shit. Yeah. What happened? Shut up, you fucker, I gotta take this call! Piss off! Sorry, still at the office.”
</p><p>Harry didn’t reply for a long moment, “Sorry, are you talking to me now?”
</p><p>“Yeah, what happened? Did he hex someone?”
</p><p>“Uh, not exactly.” And the story came spilling out in a bit of a tangle. Harry left out Malfoy’s injuries but did tell her about the fight in the lab.
</p><p>“Shit.” She sighed loudly into the phone. “Where’s he now?”
</p><p>“Uh, I don’t know.” Harry admitted. “Probably home.”
</p><p>“Okay, tell me exactly what he said, don’t skip any words, and if you can manage, the tone too please.”
</p><p>That was much harder, but Harry did remember the ‘Life’s work destroyed by bigoted anger’ part which he recited back to Roxi faithfully.
</p><p>“That’s what he said, bigoted anger? And what did you say?”
</p><p>Harry turned a bit red, “Uh, that he’d know all about bigoted anger.”
</p><p>“And then what?” She didn’t sound judgemental.
</p><p>“That he said he shouldn’t have come, and then he left.” Harry left out the escort part.
</p><p>“He’s a right fucker, isn’t he.” Roxi sighed again. “I’m guessing he didn’t explain that it’s his life’s work to fight against wizarding prejudices against muggles. That’s why he’s been so keen to get this computer thing working, it’s why he wanted to reveal it in England, where those prejudices run so deep. Where he has personal experience. And it doesn’t really matter why someone trashed his lab there, he probably thinks the project is going to be canceled, and he won’t be able to promote muggle/magical integration in a place that produced one of the most racist wizards in a century.”
</p><p>“He’s not exactly one to share.” Harry muttered, feeling ashamed. Hadn’t he just early that week been telling Hermione he thought Malfoy had changed? And now he was the one falling back into old habits.
</p><p>“Well, I did say he’s a right fucker.” She was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know what to tell you, Harry. I can only say this project is super important to him, and he’s a right shit when he’s pissed. I’d say give him some time, but even when he’s not pissed, he’s still a shit.”
</p><p>“Well, thanks anyway Roxi.” Harry sighed and hung up. What a shit day.
</p><p>*
</p><p>Draco had Weatherby apply a dittany salve to his back Friday night and again Saturday morning. The injuries were healed by dinner, but his muscles were still sore. He chose to stand during before dinner drinks with Marcealla Greengrass and Astoria.
</p><p>There was no denying Astoria was a beautiful witch, with that perfect hourglass figure and luxurious brown hair. She was polite and demurred to her mother and Narcissa, smiled prettily up at Draco and fluttered her eyelashes in a way that was neither simpering nor silly. There was a time, Draco would have found her to be the perfect wife.
</p><p>They sat down for the meal, starting with a light soup. Draco sat up straight, determined to keep his back as far away from the chair as possible, but it was an unforgiving position.
</p><p>“Draco, dear, are you alright?” Narcissa asked, genuine concern in her voice.
</p><p>“Yes, Mother.” Draco nodded at her. “There was an accident in my lab on Friday, and I’m afraid I am still feeling some of the effects.” He turned to Astoria and Mrs. Greengrass. “It’s nothing serious, simply a risk in my line of work.”
</p><p>“I would like to hear more about your work.” Astoria replied and sipped from her water. “I understand you are here on a special project?”
</p><p>“Yes,” Draco gave her a small smile. “For the Department of Mysteries. I’m afraid I can’t really speak to the particulars of the project at this time though. I believe they are planning some sort of announcement at its completion.”
</p><p>“That sounds very prestigious. Is it related to your work in America?” The soup was cleared and the vegetable course brought out.
</p><p>“It is.” Draco took a bite of roasted carrots. “I am a Dark Artefacts Expert in New York, but I spend most of my time in Research and Development.”
</p><p>“I had no idea you were so learned,” Astoria teased, and Draco was not quite sure what to make of that.
</p><p>“Do you work, Astoria?” he asked, deliberately ignoring her teasing.
</p><p>“I do not.” She frowned a bit. “I spend most of my time assisting Mother with her charities and visiting with friends.”
</p><p>“She just returned from a visit with Daphne.” Mrs. Greengrass said brightly. “She just had her first, and you know how difficult that is. Astoria was so kind as to lend a hand for an entire month. A beautiful baby boy.” She rambled on about her grandson.
</p><p>Draco tuned out the conversation about weight and length and head size, and he could see Astoria do the same. The baby conversation carried them through the vegetables, the main course (roasted duck), and into the salad course. Draco’s attention had drifted back to his lab, a subject he had been studiously avoiding all day.
</p><p>“When do you plan to return to England?” Mrs. Greengrass broke through his private thoughts.
</p><p>Draco stuttered back to the conversation. “Oh, I haven’t made any plans.”
</p><p>Mrs. Greengrass frowned deeply. “And just how are we supposed to know if you are serious about our Astoria?”
</p><p>“Mother!” Astoria hissed.
</p><p>Draco put down his fork. “My work is very important to me, and not something I intend to give up after marriage. Should Astoria and I decide we suit, then she and I will decide on living and working arrangements. Whether we decide to live here or New York or somewhere else entirely, that is a decision for us to make at a future time.”
</p><p>Astoria took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders while Mrs. Greengrass continued to frown and looked as if she might make some sort of rebuttal.
</p><p>“Would you care to see the gardens, Astoria?” Draco asked suddenly, cutting off any potential disagreement.
</p><p>“I’ve heard that Malfoy Manor has the loveliest in all of England.” Astoria stood.
</p><p>Draco walked around the table and offered her his arm. “Mother, Mrs. Greengrass.” He said respectfully to both of them before leading Asoria out the large double doors at the end of the room.
</p><p>They opened onto a terrace lined with raised flower beds and large pots that transitioned into the formal gardens. The air was a bit chilly, and Draco cast a warming charm over Astoria. But the cool air eased the ache in his back, and he chose to feel the cold. They walked in silence for a few moments, Draco mostly watching the way the evening light played across the flowers and leaves.
</p><p>Astoria was the one to speak first. “Please forgive my mother. She finds it difficult with Daphne and Theo in the Netherlands. I think the thought that I might live outside of the country positively terrifies her.”
</p><p>Draco paused for a moment. “I’ve lived in America for ten years now; I hadn’t thought I would ever return to England even just to visit.” He paused to touch one of the lilies. “It’s been so long, I am not sure what it would be like to return.” He turned back to her. “If we were to marry, I suppose I must then.”
</p><p>“I am sure you could find work here,” she offered tentatively.
</p><p>Draco gave a grim smile. “I am certain that there is lots of work for me to do here. The question is would people be willing to accept me.” Absently, he put a hand on his left forearm.
</p><p>Asortia put her hand over his. “As you said, ten years you’ve been gone. Many things have changed in that time. And many things can change in the next ten. I am sure that given a little time, you would be able to find your place here.”
</p><p>Draco looked down at where her hand covered his. Did he even want a place here? But he didn’t pose the question out loud. “You are clearly a beautiful woman with a clever mind. Why are you interested in a traditional, arranged marriage?”
</p><p>“I suppose that’s a question you would have asked eventually.” She removed her hand and they continued to walk down the path. “You’re right, I didn’t have to choose this, but,” she took a deep breath, “I don’t want to spend my whole life assisting in my mother’s charities. I want to make something of myself. I want to bring honor and respectability back to the Twenty-Eight Families. Certainly I could do that through a love match, but I find that most men lack my dedication to family. This seemed like an easy way to eliminate those options.”
</p><p>“You’re ambitious.” Draco replied. “And you want an equally ambitious husband.”
</p><p>“I believe in a marriage of equals. I require a partner.”
</p><p>Draco tucked her hand into the crock of his arm. Yes, she was exactly the sort of woman he had pictured himself marrying before the war. “A marriage of equals, and what of children?”
</p><p>She paused before speaking. “I suppose an heir is required of all good wives in pureblood families. I would be amenable to that.”
</p><p>“I am not sure that it is something I can give you.” Draco said carefully. His interest was not a secret in New York, but it wasn’t something he had made public here. And this was the first time he dared to tell someone. “I have never been one to appreciate the female form.
</p><p>“Ah,” Astoria nodded in understanding. “Well, a marriage of equals. I will not interfere with your dalliances, so long as you do not interfere with mine. A very modern marriage.”
</p><p>“You are a singular woman, Astoria.” Draco was most definitely impressed. And entirely uncertain. He steered them back towards the dining room where dessert was no doubt waiting. “You’ve given me quite a bit to think about. Since the war, these were options I’d thought denied to me.” Draco said nothing else.
</p><p>Back in the dining room, he made polite conversation, nibbled at the cake and made no motion to touch his coffee. Astoria could offer him everything he had wanted, a chance to restore his family’s reputation, the chance to make a difference in the prejudices of England, potentially an heir to carry on the family name. Desires that he had given up when he decided to study in America. After the trial, after that horrible war, he had resigned himself to being a footnote in history books, a comment on how the Malfoy family after centuries of racism and bigotry had made strides to right their wrongs. It would, of course, have looked nothing like that, more like *Draco Malfoy would later invent the potion to allow magic and electricity to coincide, perhaps in response to the horrible guilt he felt for the part his family played in the war”. And even that, he felt was overly ambitious.
</p><p>Of course, someone had sabotaged his lab. And there were no guarantees here. In America he had already carved out a life, a good life with purpose and meaning. New York was safe, and what exactly had ambition gotten him or his father for that matter? Nothing good.
</p><p>He sighed gratefully when Astoria and her mother finally left.
</p><p>“What did you think of Astoria?” Narcissa asked almost before the door shut.
</p><p>“She has given me quite a bit to think about, Mother.” Draco admitted. “Laid out options I hadn’t thought possible for us.”
</p><p>“She’s a lovely young woman.” Narcissa prompted.
</p><p>“Yes,” Draco agreed. “Good night, Mother.”
</p><p>“Good night, Draco.”
</p><p>Draco returned to the Little Guest Room (the least offensive of all the bedrooms). But instead of putting on pajamas, he paced around the furniture, thoughts moving around and around as he walked from the door around the bed, to the wardrobe and back around to the desk before moving back to the door. Spinning in figure eights. A chance to rejoin wizarding society, to bring honor and glory to the Malfoy name, to become a wizard others looked up to in the English magical community.
</p><p>And back around again. It would mean leaving New York, possibly giving up his experiments and Roxi and the progress that he had made. It would mean giving up the life he had created for himself completely by himself. It would mean facing years of scorn and derision. And while people in New York hated him, it was because they were New Yorkers and Draco was an asshole, it wasn’t because of horrible life changing mistakes he had made as a child. It wasn’t because of horrible life changing decisions his parents made. It was because Draco was Draco and New York was New York.
</p><p>And around again. And again. And again, until Weatherby knocked on the door and asked if Master needed a late night snack or drink.
</p><p>At which point, Draco had to get out. Out of that room, out of the Manor, out of his damned head. “Thank you, Weatherby, but I believe I’ll be going out.” He stalked over to the wardrobe and got out the only clubbing outfit he had packed, a tight fitted black tee, equally tight and fitted black denims, and a dark red leather jacket. He fussed his hair in the mirror and apparated.
</p><p>He’d done his research before arriving in London. His therapist had recommended he devise several strategies for coping, and thus Draco had packed his favorite books, researched local bookstore in case he needed a new one, made a list of interesting clubs, and dutifully took down and carefully packed the name of a recommended mind healer, should the need arise.
</p><p>Draco arrived at the first club on the list, paid his cover, and walked inside. It smelled like sweat and alcohol, like comfort and acceptance. And with each step inside, Draco was able to shed a little of his discomfort and unhappiness. He left his thoughts of Astoria and the future at the door and made his way to the bar, dropping concerns about Malfoy Manor, his mother, and the Malfoy reputation as he went.
</p><p>When he took the first sip of his gin and tonic, he let go of his lab, leaving it scattered across the top of the bar just like the generator had been scattered across the room. He leaned back, drank deeply from the glass and watched the dance floor. The bodies moving and grinding along were disjointed from each other and the music and somehow absurdly harmonious. A place like this was a mix of contradictions, a seedy den of iniquity where people came for acceptance and safety. They took comfort in the closeness of unknown bodies who writhed and screamed and jumped around.
</p><p>Draco sucked the last of the liquid up through the straw, found his quarry, and left his fears for Granger as well as the highball glass behind. He was younger then Draco, but not by much, and he danced with a wild abandon that spoke more of enthusiasm than skill. He had long curly hair, the kind perfect for tangling in hands. Draco made his way through the crowd, shimmying around and away from clinging hands until he reached his destination.
</p><p>He stood still in the crowd until the man looked at him, and then Draco smiled. Roxi called it his devil smile, the one that promised nothing but wicked delight, it curled through his lips and lingered in his eyes. And Draco crooked one finger and the man pushed forward.
</p><p>There were dances of grace, of sensuality, of lingering touches and gentle temptations. But Draco had never been one for grace or gentility. He pulled the man close, his thigh grinding indecently, his hand teasing along the back of his neck, his breath a ghosting touch along his lips. And the man’s eyes were wide, blown open with lust or with the heady feeling in the room, but open all the same. And Draco lost himself in those eyes, in the sway and grind, desire pooling low and heavy.
</p><p>The man took Draco’s hand and led him down a long hall towards the bathrooms and some sort of employee only door. But they didn’t go far, just around the corner, and Draco had him pushed up against the wall. Hands under his shirt, skirting underneath the waistband on his denims, and mouths pressed openly together. He was moaning as Draco worked open his zip, and pulled everything down. And then Draco wrapped his hand around the man’s cock, feeling the weight of it, considering its size, before pressing several hot kisses along the length of his throat and sinking to his knees.
</p><p>English cocks were not like American ones, for all that circumcision was losing favor in the States, and there was always something comforting about a cock with foreskin in Draco’s mind. On his knees, hands splayed along the man’s hips, holding him steady, Draco took him all the way. Lost himself in the noises he made, in the fullness in his mouth, in the hands in his hair. This was not a place for thoughts of the future or concerns of the past, this was living in the moment. And Draco inhaled deeply the masculine sweat, he tasted the bitterness, tongued the hardness, and pinned narrow hips to the wall behind him. His world shrank down to that size, to the trembling thighs, to the long hard suck, to the feel of a cock hitting the back of Draco’s throat and swallowing down down down. 
</p><p>Over and over and over, up and down, a relentless pace that drove out the world until the man was pulling on his hair and grunting something about coming, and Draco popped his mouth off and worked him with his hands until he spilled over.
</p><p>“Fuck.” He panted, and Draco sat back on his heels to observe his work. “I’ll do you, just-just need to catch my breath.”
</p><p>Draco chuckled softly. “No hurries. I’ve got all night. We could go back and dance for a while, if you want.”
</p><p>But he was shaking his head. “No, want to suck you too.” He swallowed and sucked in several deep breaths.
</p><p>And then they were trading places, and it was slower. He took his time mouthing over Draco’s denims, and running his hands up and down his legs. It was gentle and careful, and there was something tender to his touch, almost hesitant, but still determined. It was sweet, and Draco opened his eyes to look down, but something else caught his attention first.
</p><p>Potter was standing by the loo door, piercing gaze fixed on Draco and his paramour. Draco closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the feeling of the button coming undone and the zip being pulled down. And Potter was still staring.
</p><p>This was supposed to be a worry free-Potter free-night. Draco opened his eyes, caught Potter’s gaze and scowled magnificently. And then tried to focus on the hand pulling aside the edges of his denims because Draco had skipped the pants.
</p><p>And Potter was still staring.
</p><p>Finally, Draco had to admit this was not going to end the way he wanted. He pushed the man away gently. “I appreciate the offer, I do. But I don’t perform well with an audience.” His gaze flicked to Potter, and the man’s too. And then he was standing up, smiling a goodbye, and disappearing back onto the dance floor.
</p><p>“What do you want, Potter?” Draco tucked his wilting erection back into his denims and did up the zip and button. “Or do you just get your rocks off ruining orgasms.”
</p><p>Potter spluttered something incoherent, and Draco patted him roughly on the chest as he passed by. “Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s not the first time. But since you’re bent on ruining my evening, I insist you buy me a drink.”
</p><p>Harry spluttered a second time, his brain having trouble moving past the words “Since you’re bent.” He had not expected to see Malfoy. In fact, he hadn’t thought much of Malfoy all day. Hermione had been discharged and sent home with strict instructions to rest. Harry had brought curry takeaway, and then gone back to Grimmauld Place for a few weekend chores. And now, he was out to burn off some stress from the week. And just as he’d come out of the loo, there was Malfoy, burning off some stress of his own.
</p><p>He watched for a moment, Malfoy on his knees, impossible to see his face, but impossible not to know what was going on. It wasn’t as if Harry hadn’t seen other patrons in the same position, but it was different to see Malfoy there, to know he sucked cock, and based on the expression on the other man’s face, to know he was good. It stirred up all sorts of feelings he had been working so hard not to feel.
</p><p>It was one thing to look at Malfoy and think he looked like sex, to see him with his trousers and his earrings. It was quite another to witness the rapture on another man’s face while his cock was buried in Malfoy’s mouth. And then they were trading places, and Harry was still stuck staring, what expressions would Malfoy make. Would he make those same faces if it were Harry on his knees?
</p><p>Harry swallowed hard. And then Malfoy was looking back at him, gaze clear and steady, unnerving really. And Harry couldn’t look away, not as Draco closed his eyes, not as the man undid the button, not even as Draco pushed him away. And then Draco was speaking and fixing his clothes, and Harry still had no answers 
</p><p>But he was following as Malfoy made his way through the sweaty bodies to the bar.
</p><p>Draco gestured to the bartender, and then leaned provocatively against the counter as he waited. Harry came up alongside him. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
</p><p>“Because you weren’t expecting me to be bent?” He scowled.
</p><p>“No,” Harry said, “maybe.”
</p><p>“Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting to see you.” The bartender came over. “Gin and tonic. He’s buying, so making it a double.” Draco pointed at Harry.
</p><p>And Harry, sad sod that he was, nodded.
</p><p>“And yes,” Draco turned and faced Harry. “It’s because I didn’t think you were bent.”
</p><p>“Bi, actually.” Harry corrected, and Draco snorted into his double, sucked it down, and then gestured for another. “Am I funding your night then?”
</p><p>“Coitus interruptus, Potter. The least you can do is get me drunk.”
</p><p>“Fair enough, I suppose.” Harry nodded at the bartender, who brought two drinks over. “How do you know about this place?”
</p><p>“I do my research.” Draco held the glass between his hands. “Why are you here?”
</p><p>“Long twenty-four hours.”
</p><p>“I’ll drink to that.” Draco clinked his glass to Harry’s and drank deeply.
</p><p>Harry took a long drink too. “I’m sorry. About your lab.” he clarified, thinking of Roxi.
</p><p>Draco scowled. “I certainly didn’t come here to think about my lab, Potter. Try something else.”
</p><p>“Why did you come here?” Harry asked, genuinely curious.
</p><p>“For fuck’s sake Potter, what is wrong with you!” Draco sneered and emptied his drink.
</p><p>“It’s just you, here, in a muggle gay bar, giving head to another guy <em>before</em> getting some yourself? That’s not the Draco Malfoy I know.”
</p><p>“Fuck you.” Draco raised his chin. “I’m an indiscriminate lover, not an inconsiderate one. And what about you, only interested in a pull?” He looked down mournfully at his empty glass.
</p><p>Harry shrugged and avoided the question by taking a drink. Draco put his glass on the bar behind him and looked out at the dance floor again, envious of the people lost in their moments there. The loud beat, the crush of bodies, the sway and grind, slow and delicious, fast and hard, removed from everyday life. A perfect sort of utopia.
</p><p>And then Draco did something he never would have thought, he answered Harry’s question. “I didn’t want to be Draco Malfoy, former DeathEater, hated and reviled by all. And I didn’t want to be Draco Malfoy, head of the family and dutiful son. Don’t you ever want to get away from all those labels that people put on you and just be a man?”
</p><p>Harry looked at the carbonation rushing out of his drink mostly to avoid looking at the earnest and open expression on Malfoy’s face. “Yeah.” He turned his head, and looked at Draco who was staring out at the dance floor still.
</p><p>“I just wanted to be some man, some nameless man in the crowd that gave some other nameless man a reason to go home with a smile.” Harry watched Draco eyes go deep and unfocused, he fell into them actually, into the grey storm hidden inside and thought he might be able to get lost in that. That he might be able to bury the torrent of emotions that had been coursing through him all week, since he had first seen Malfoy in his office. Or perhaps those feelings went back farther, to when he realized he wanted nothing more than to push Draco up against the nearest flat surface and push his tongue down his throat and his hands down his pants. Maybe those feelings went all the way back to the trial years ago.
</p><p>Maybe it went all the way back to that first day in Diagon Alley?
</p><p>Harry put his drink on the counter. He took three deliberate steps in front of Malfoy and waited a heartbeat and then waited two for Malfoy to look at him, to see him. And when Draco did look up at Harry, it was with fire. He stood still, still against the bar, not a fidget to betray the raging inferno inside. Harry reached out with one hand to Draco’s chin, a tight hold, and kissed him.
</p><p>Draco opened his mouth, and Harry pushed forward, tongue licking, teeth teasing, sucking hard. He wrapped his hand in Draco’s shirt and yanked him close, pressed his leg against the bulge in Draco’s denims. Draco gasped and moaned and whined low in the back of his throat. He grabbed hold of Harry’s hips in a bruising vice, rutting feverishly against him. He pulled at Harry, desperate for more.
</p><p>“There’s a back hall for this sort of thing, gentlemen. If you haven’t got someplace better to go,” the bartender interrupted them.
</p><p>Harry pulled back, heart thumping wildly. “My place.” He took Draco’s hand and started to pull him to the door.
</p><p>But Draco held fast. “Here.”
</p><p>“My place has a bed.” Harry paused.
</p><p>Draco stepped up to him, dropped Harry’s hand and lightly trailed his fingers down Harry’s neck, the other slipped underneath his shirt to trace swirls in the hair on his stomach. He breathed hotly against Harry’s ear, and Harry shivered in arousal. “Here.”
</p><p>And then Harry was yanking on his arm to that place along the wall he had first seen Draco, shoving him hard against it, attacking Malfoy’s mouth, pinning his hips down and grinding their erections together. Draco pushed back hard, to get his hand in between them, and Harry was too far gone with need to realize. He pushed back into the space, thrusting against the crease of Draco’s leg, panting and groaning.
</p><p>There wasn’t space, and Draco’s hand was clumsy as he pulled at the button and zip of Harry’s trousers. The angle was bad, and it was uncomfortable as he slipped his hand inside and ran his palm along the underside of Harry’s cock.
</p><p>“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Harry jerked and then began pushing into Draco’s hand, completely lost in the moment, rutting mindlessly, desperate for more but unable to think beyond the feel of Malfoy’s hand, the smell of him, the soft breathy moans he made when Harry’s hand flexed on his other arm. And then Harry was coming, thunked his head down on Malfoy’s shoulder and watched those long elegant fingers rub against his cock as he spilled onto them and his pants.
</p><p>And when Harry finally stopped jerking and looked up, Draco smiled a wicked, wicked smile as he sucked a finger deep into his mouth tasting Harry. And Harry thought, nope, that, that was what sex looked like, Draco Malfoy in his red leather jacket and his earings and his long hair slowly sucking come off his fingers. That was the definition of sex.
</p><p>A slight pressure on his shoulder, and Harry sank to his knees, hands at his side as Draco undid his own button and zip. As he pulled out his own cock, red and swollen and held it out towards Harry’s lips. And Harry didn’t wait, opened his mouth, one hand curled around the base and sucked Draco down. He watched, kept his eyes up on Malfoy’s face. It made it difficult to get the whole of Malfoy’s cock in his mouth, but Harry wanted to see every second, every flicker that crossed his face as he came. He tongued the slit, pumped his hand in time with his mouth, sucked and licked, and slowly Draco came undone.
</p><p>It started with heavy breathing that turned into gasps. His eyes fluttered, and then Harry popped off wetly and said. “Look at me.” And began to pump his hand harder, and even though his mouth wasn’t on Draco any longer, Draco buried his hands in Harry’s hair, and stared down. “Ha-Harry.” He gasped out and came.
</p><p>Harry wiped his hands on his trousers, certain he couldn’t look nearly as good sucking on his own fingers as Draco had. Although, based on the way Malfoy was looking at him, eyes half lidded and panting, he really didn’t need to worry about how he looked.
</p><p>*
</p><p>Harry was waiting outside Robards’ office when he arrived at 7:05 on Monday morning. “You’re early this morning, Potter. To what do I owe the honor?”
</p><p>“I think we should investigate the accident at Draco Malfoy’s lab on Friday.” Harry had spent his entire commute and a good portion of the night before working on that opening line.
</p><p>“I understand Mrs. Granger-Weasley was injured, but these sorts of accidents happen in research and development.”
</p><p>“You don’t find it suspicious? Surely an expert who invented the techniques for this particular project would not make such a dangerous mistake.”
</p><p>Roebards sat down at his desk and steepled his fingers. “And I suppose you think you’re the one to do this investigation?” He raised his eyebrows.
</p><p>Harry recognized that he was in dangerous territory of pushing his luck. “Perhaps someone more impartial?”
</p><p>“Are you implying you couldn’t do the job?”
</p><p>And there was just nothing to say in response to that. But Harry certainly tried. “While I think I could uncover the truth, I understand that I have a certain colored history with Malfoy and that, for the sake of appearances, it might be wiser to select someone like Dean Thomas.” He suggested hesitantly.
</p><p>“So, your suggestion for impartiality is the man currently engaged to Ginevra Weasley?” He raised his eyebrows again.
</p><p>“Partner him with Unspeakable Zabini?” Harry hadn’t meant to pitch that as a question. “An interdepartmental investigation, and Zabini grew up with Malfoy. And Dean and Zabini have worked well together in the past. Impartial all around.”
</p><p>“Fine then.” Roebards nodded. “I’ll send out a memo. Now get out of my office.”
</p><p>Unable to conceal a grin, Harry did just that.
</p><p>*
</p><p>Draco had not slept well Sunday night, which would be obvious to the discerning observer. He had dark smudges under his eyes which were overly wide due to being hyper caffeinated. And while he was leaning against the wall near the lifts, dressed as impeccably as ever, he was also, very carefully tapping one foot, almost imperceptible inside his shoe. He had spent several hours walking and visiting three separate cafes before arriving at the Ministry precisely on time to meet Granger as he had every morning the week before. Except, this morning, he wasn’t sure if Granger was even out of St. Mungos.
</p><p>She wasn’t waiting for him when Draco arrived. Nor did she or Weasley or Potter arrive in the next fifteen minutes. In fact, Draco waited, completely uncertain until nearly 9am, when both Granger and Weasley stepped out of the floos. He let out an enormous sigh of relief very, very slowly as they crossed the atrium.
</p><p>“Malfoy.”
</p><p>“Weasley.” Draco nodded at him, but all of his attention was on Granger, on the way she walked just as briskly as before and the healthy color of her skin. “Granger. You look well this morning.”
</p><p>She frowned slightly and exchanged a look with Weasley that Draco pretended not to notice. “Yes, well, thank you.”
</p><p>Draco pushed off from the wall, shoved his hands in his pockets, and stepped over to the lifts. He let Weasley push all the buttons and made no further comments. They all rode the lift in an incredibly awkward silence that didn’t end when Weasley got off at the Auror department. And it didn’t end when Draco and Hermione stepped off several floors later. It carried through all the way to Hermione’s office. She took off her robes, sat down at her desk, and gestured for Draco to do the same.
</p><p>For a moment, Draco considered refusing. He rather preferred to receive bad news while standing, but ultimately followed her directive.
</p><p>“I suppose everything in the lab is ruined?”
</p><p>He nodded. “Some things may be salvaged after a thorough washing, but yes, the potion is certainly ruined.”
</p><p>“I’ll need the ingredients list again so that we might reorder the items, and I suppose you will need to go out shopping again. If you let me know when I would be happy to accompany you. How long do you think this will delay the project?”
</p><p>“I would have to examine the damage again, but a minimum of 7 days.” And that was seven working days, excluding any days he would not be able to work. “Am I to assume then that the project will proceed?”
</p><p>She looked up startled. “I see no reason why it shouldn’t.”
</p><p>And if she didn’t, then Draco certainly wasn’t going to point out all the reasons she was clearly missing. “Then, if you will excuse me, I’ll return to the lab and begin again.”
</p><p>“I still need that list.” Hermione reminded him and handed over a quill and parchment.
</p><p>She read over her memos while Draco wrote out his ingredients. It took ten minutes, but then they were stepping out into the hall. Draco clasped one wrist tightly in the other hand behind his back and squeezed hard, the pain cutting through his anxiety. Which was growing as they approached the destroyed lab. Granger left him at the open door.
</p><p>“Sorry, I’ve got a really busy morning, but tomorrow, maybe you can give me an update. I’ll see you at noon for lunch.” And then she was disappearing back to her office.
</p><p>Draco watched her until she disappeared. And then it was time to face the lab. He moved towards the door, but there was Dean Thomas blocking his way. “Thomas.” Draco sucked in air.
</p><p>“Malfoy, we’re investigating the accident on Friday. Care to tell me what happened?”
</p><p>And Granger had thought there was no reason to discontinue the project. Draco straightened his spine. “It’s fairly obvious that someone has tampered with my work, casting spells throughout the room.”
</p><p>“You think it was a deliberate act of sabotage?” Dean asked in a tone that was entirely too even.
</p><p>Draco felt a bit like he might not breathe. “I take my work very seriously, Thomas. It is imperative that these devices be protected from residual and accidental magic due to the electricity. I am not sure how many times I need to explain this. I have created several generators.” He explained as if to a small child. “They create electricity, the muggle discovery that powers things. Electricity and magic don’t mix well, and often explode when combined. I never use magic in my lab as I enjoy using all of my limbs.” He crossed his arms angrily.
</p><p>“And yet, Hermione was the only one injured in the accident. Why were you protected and she wasn’t?”
</p><p>Draco sucked in air through his nose and held it for a brief second. “Just because I did not seek medical attention does not mean I was not injured. I sustained several cuts and bruises to my back.”
</p><p>“Can anyone corroborate that?”
</p><p>Was his eye twitching now? “Potter.”
</p><p>“I’m sorry, do you mean Harry Potter?”
</p><p>“Yes, he escorted me back to the lab on Friday after the accident so that I might survey the damage. It’s quite extensive, as you may have noticed. Is that all?”
</p><p>“For now.” Thomas let out a deep sigh. “It is a big mess in there.”
</p><p>“More than you could probably see.” Draco scowled and pushed past him into the room. The room looked exactly as he remembered, and Blaise was standing in the middle waving his wand about. And the mess was getting bigger. “Blaise.”
</p><p>He turned and faced Draco. “Draco. How are you?”
</p><p>“I’ve been better. You?”
</p><p>“Oh, splendid, an Unspeakable now, specialize in magical signatures. We’ll need to confiscate your wand for a few days.”
</p><p>“My wand?” His fingers were definitely twitching.
</p><p>“Yes, to test the magical residue.”
</p><p>“You think I did this.”
</p><p>“We haven’t ruled it out,” Dean said from the doorway.
</p><p>“Well, isn’t this day just as stellar as I imagined it would be.” He said dryly, reaching into the sleeve of his left arm. “Blaise, I wish I could say it was a pleasure seeing you again.” He removed his wand from it’s holster, fingers running along the faint remains of the Dark Mark. And then, without a word, he pushed his wand into Thomas’s chest and left. He had absolutely no intention of handing his wand to Blaise simply because he was the one to ask for it. Petty perhaps, but then the muscle under his eye was twitching.
</p><p>And Draco thought he might sick up as he walked down the hall. He stood outside of Granger’s office for several minutes trying to get all of his twitches under control before knocking, but then someone was walking down the hall, and he desperately didn’t want to see who it was. So he turned the handle, completely forgetting to knock and walked in.
</p><p>Hermione looked up from the memo on her desk.
</p><p>“They’re doing an investigation.”
</p><p>She nodded and picked up a different memo, one that had been in the middle of her desk rather than in the pile. “Yes, I heard. I’m sorry. Perhaps you should take the day off?”
</p><p>“Would you mind if I made a firecall?” Draco gestured towards the fireplace.
</p><p>“Of course.”
</p><p>Draco knelt down and stuck his head in the flames, “Healer Calloway’s Office, St. Mungo’s.” He waited a moment for the receptionist to answer the call. “Yes, I’d like to make an appointment, first available.” Another pause while she looked up the available appointments and then asked his name. “Draco Malfoy. Healer Patel recommended her.” It was another moment. “Yes, Tuesday at five would be fine. Thank you.” And he pulled his head out.
</p><p>“I see a mind healer too, sometimes.” Hermione blurted out, and Draco, frozen, remained crouched on the floor. The tension in the room was palpable. “Calloway is good. I don’t see her, someone else in the practice, but she’s very highly rated.”
</p><p>“Why are you telling me this?”
</p><p>And Hermione knew he wasn’t asking about Healer Calloway. “I just,” She licked her lips. “It’s only fair, isn’t it. I know this personal information about you. It’s only fair you know something about me.”
</p><p>“I already know something personal about you, Granger.” Draco reminded her, still crouched on the floor.
</p><p>“Yes, Harry told me,” she said softly. “It’s not the same though. It’s not as private.”
</p><p>“You don’t have to be fair to me.”
</p><p>“I want to.”
</p><p>“And what if I don’t want it.” Draco replied, in part because he was contrary and in part because he didn’t.
</p><p>“I’m sure there are a lot of things you don’t want,“ Hermione said, her voice going somewhat steely. “I’m sure you don’t want an escort, and I’m sure you’d rather not have to see me or Ron or Harry all the time. In fact, I rather think you’d prefer not to be in England at all. But we’re all here now, and this-this is a bit shit, and we may as well make the best of it, shouldn’t we?” It really wasn’t a question.
</p><p>“You’re right.” Draco turned around and faced her. “There are a lot of things I don’t want. I don’t like being at the mercy of your schedule. And I didn’t want to spend so much time around you and Weasley and--” he swallowed at a sudden memory of Harry on his knees, “Potter. But I chose to be here, and I want to complete this project. It’s important. And I will do what is necessary to complete my task.”
</p><p>Hermione nodded. “I agree. I’ll send an owl when you can get back into the lab.” She stood up, fussed with something in her desk drawer for a moment, and then said, “I’ll take you to the floos.”
</p><p>Draco closed his eyes, perhaps in acceptance, perhaps resignation, or perhaps something else altogether. “Thank you, Granger.”
</p><p>*
</p><p>The investigation was completed on Wednesday, but Draco got into the lab on Tuesday afternoon. He spent several hours cleaning up, mostly the debris as the magic would require a lot more concerted effort. And then he went to his appointment. Therapy was, as he remembered in a sudden flash, just as anxiety inducing and cararthic as before. They made another appointment for the following week.
</p><p>Wednesday, he spent scrubbing the magic out.
</p><p>And Friday he was ready to start brewing again.
</p><p>Potter was the one to escort him back to the lifts on Friday evening. He was late, and Draco spent thirty minutes alternately trying to work and fretting that he had been forgotten. He raised his eyebrows when Potter finally rushed into the room.
</p><p>“Sorry, got caught up in an interview. Are you ready, or do you need a little time?”
</p><p>Draco checked his watch and then heaved out a very audible sigh. “No.” he was expected for dinner at the Greengrasses this evening. Although, he would have much preferred to spend the evening in his lab. “How is Granger?” The question about the baby was unasked.
</p><p>“It’s just a check up. She’s still in the early stages and has to go about once a month or something.” Harry explained as they both stepped into the hall. “Are we ever going to talk about what happened last weekend?”
</p><p>Draco steps ceased.
</p><p>“I mean, it was very nice, and I was wondering if maybe we should meet for--Malfoy?” Harry realized he had left Malfoy behind.
</p><p>Draco looked up from his feet. “What <em>happens</em> at the Gay Muggle Club, Potter, stays at the Gay Muggle Club.”
</p><p>“Oh, no, I just thought it was nice, and that maybe--”
</p><p>“What part of my statement do you not understand?” Malfoy checked Harry hard as he stepped past. “We don’t talk about that.”
</p><p>“Why?”
</p><p>“Because, Potter,” Draco sighed loudly. “What happens at the Gay Muggle Club <em>stays</em> at the Gay Muggle Club. Those are the rules.”
</p><p>“Well, are you going again?”
</p><p>Draco’s steps stilled again. “Why?”
</p><p>Harry shrugged. “I like to blow off steam there.” He wasn’t going to ask. He didn’t need to say he had been thinking about last Saturday, had been reliving those moments in the hall all week, dreaming about them. He drew up next to Malfoy and waited.
</p><p>Because Draco remembered the hall just as well as Harry. And he also remembered that this was really not a healthy way to blow off steam. Even Dr. Calloway had agreed it wasn’t a great idea; there was just too much history between the two of them to ever be really healthy. “Christ Potter.” Draco inhaled deeply and squeezed his eyes shut. Only to see Potter on his knees. “Probably.”
</p><p>“Probably?”
</p><p>“Probably tonight,” he admitted, because really, he wasn’t looking forward to dinner and all the complicated thoughts that would come with it.
</p><p>“Oh, do you,” Harry licked his lips. “Do you know what time you might be there?”
</p><p>“What do you want from me, Potter. I don’t know. I have other plans this evening. And besides, this,” he gestured between the two of them, “this is a terrible idea.”
</p><p>“It seemed to go just fine last weekend.” Harry muttered darkly and kept moving forward.
</p><p>“Oh god!” Draco threw his head back and then hurried to catch up with Harry. “I mean, you and me are complicated. And I can’t do complicated right now.”
</p><p>Harry looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “So, we’ll just blow off steam, at the same place, at the same time maybe.” He looked back forward. “Maybe with each other.”
</p><p>“Fuck you, Potter.” Draco threw out as Harry hit the button and definitely didn’t look at Malfoy. “I don’t know what time. But yes, I’ll be there tonight. Fuck.”
</p><p>“Okay.” Harry smiled to himself, and neither one looked at the other on the lift.
</p><p>They exchanged only stiff nods at the floos before leaving.
</p><p>“You are late.” Narcissa was waiting when Draco arrived at the Manor.
</p><p>“I’m sorry, Mother.” Draco sucked in a deep breath and hurried towards the stairs.
</p><p>“What is that smell?” She demanded.
</p><p>Draco turned and faced her. “Potion. I am sorry that I am late, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to shower and change for dinner quickly.” And he turned back around and hurried up the stairs. He didn’t think about Harry or the club or work, much. Draco tried to keep his attention on the upcoming meal. He had spoken with Healer Calloway about Astoria, but she had little advice on the matter, simply listening to Draco and asking about his thoughts on the future. In truth, Draco wanted what Astoria could offer him, he did. He just wasn’t so certain he wanted to be in England, and transatlantic travel, while far easier with magical means then muggle, was still not really viable.
</p><p>Standing before the mirror, giving his appearance one last look over, Draco realized he needed to remove his earrings. He ran a hand over the cuff and hoop, closed his eyes, and sighed deeply. He’d had them so long, seven years, and almost never removed them. Draco squeezed his left hand into a fist. The earrings were his mark on his body, something permanent but also changeable. He could take them out, one, the other, both; he could put in different ones, bigger, or smaller, or different colors. They were a way for him to express who he was before, who he was in the present, and the possibility of change in the future. He would always be an asshole, but he didn’t always have to be the same asshole, and that is what the earrings represented to him.
</p><p>But Astoria’s father was old fashioned, and unlikely to appreciate the sentimentality behind the earrings. Draco slipped them off with a sinking feeling in his stomach and left them on the dresser.
</p><p>The meal began well enough, with light appetizers and cocktails in the parlour. Draco sipped lightly on his gimlet and made polite conversation about the weather while they all waited for Astoria to arrive.
</p><p>At least twice Marcella commented on how punctual Astoria usually was, and Draco nodded diplomatically. When she did arrive, ten minutes later, she apologized profusely, claiming to have been unavoidably detained. Draco, suddenly tired of polite behavior and still under the stress of the investigation on his lab and his lack of open access to it, decided he simply no longer cared. “I hope everything is alright.” Draco greeted her.
</p><p>Astoria turned her luminous smile on Draco, “Only good news.” She stepped up to her father and kissed his cheek.
</p><p>The conversation drifted to Daphne and Theodore Nott, and Mr. Greengrass complained to Draco that women always talk about babies and then asked a question about politics that Draco couldn’t answer.
</p><p>Astoria saved him, “Daddy, he’s only been in the country two weeks!”
</p><p>“He could follow it over there.”
</p><p>“I doubt American reporters go into great detail about the numerous squablings of the Minister’s undersecretaries.”
</p><p>“They don’t.” Draco quickly put forward. “And the wizarding community over there pays more attention to muggle politics. I’m lucky when the papers even cover the British elections.”
</p><p>From there, Astoria launched into an explanation of the rivalry between the four under secretaries and their various attempts to undermine different pieces of legislation that became increasingly childish and culminated in tacks on a chair at a meeting. Draco joined in on the laughter, but found the story to be childish and foolish, especially in people running a country. He might have excused himself and gone to join the conversation about babies on the other side of the room, except that he was supposed to be getting to know Astoria.
</p><p>“Do you enjoy politics?” Astoria asked.
</p><p>Draco dithered slightly. “It’s very different in America, it’s hard to understand just how much bigger the country is, and it’s much harder to maintain such a thorough understanding of all the politicians.”
</p><p>Astoria frowned, a small wrinkle creasing her forehead. “So you aren’t interested in politics.”
</p><p>“I follow the national politicians broadly in America, but prefer the local politics.” Draco said at last. He found the local leaders tended to have a bigger impact on his day to day interactions, and a lot of funding for his department came from local taxes.
</p><p>“Aren’t all politics local?” Astoria asked.
</p><p>Draco shook his head. “It’s more like following the politics of all of Europe rather than just England.” He tried to explain. “I could devote more attention to the National stage, but it’s hard to keep tabs on almost four hundred elected officials, not including the people who work underneath them.”
</p><p>“Four hundred?” Astoria raised her eyebrows. “That is a lot but not impossible.”
</p><p>“No,” Draco agreed. “But I prefer to keep track of my local politicians, There are seventy-seven local wizarding representatives for the state of New York, and the Muggle politicians often play a large role, due to the interconnectedness.”
</p><p>“I see.” Astoria nodded. “That is quite a bit more to keep track of than here.”
</p><p>Draco was saved from further conversation on politics by the announcement of dinner. He finished his gimlet and offered Astoria his arm. The dinner conversation remained on safe topics, favorite meals, summertime traditions, Americans in general. Astoria laughed at all the right moments when Draco shared stories of Roxi’s sisters. He was charmingly engaging when Marcella talked about the school. And then, just before the dessert, Astoria asked if he might like a tour of the house.
</p><p>Her father frowned as Draco accepted. “That sounds quite lovely, Astoria.” He stood and offered her his arm again, and they stepped out into the hall. “Your father seems less than pleased with me.”
</p><p>Astoria frowned and was quiet before answering. “He believes that a man from a less controversial family will suit me better.”
</p><p>“And what do you think?”
</p><p>“I shared my ambitions with you last week.” Astoria led him down the hall. “This is the ballroom, and across the hall you’ve seen the drawing room. I think you’ve always been very ambitious, and I think your experiences have not lessened that, but perhaps they have made you more cautious.”
</p><p>“Being on the losing side of war will do that to a person.”
</p><p>“It didn’t break you.” Astoria pointed out. “You went abroad, you built a life, you sought to understand that which you had been taught to hate.” They made it to the end of the hall, and Astoria led him around a corner. “These are the private studies. I must confess the reason I was late this evening.”
</p><p>“Oh?” Draco inclined his head towards her.
</p><p>“Yes, I received a very interesting letter from my friend Blaise Zabini.” She looked Draco over for any flicker of emotion to cross his face.
</p><p>“I wouldn’t have thought you would be friends with him.” A muscle near his mouth twitched in something that might have been irritation or mere curiosity.
</p><p>“Does that bother you? That I have friends in the ministry?”
</p><p>“Not at all.” Draco refused to elaborate on the invasion he felt to his privacy. “What has Blaise shared with you?”
</p><p>“Apparently, some low level security guards were the ones to sabotage your lab.”
</p><p>Draco stopped walking as his mind began to whip thoughts around his head. Not a single bit of privacy! Was everyone to know his every move and word? How was it that old enemies, old friends, and practical strangers were more informed on subjects that impacted his own life to such a degree! He dug his fingernails into the sensitive flesh at the base of his thumb and breathed deeply through his nose.
</p><p>Astoria noticed. “I thought you would want to know,” she said.
</p><p>“Thank you, Astoria,” Draco said when he could speak calmly again. “I have been concerned about the investigation, and it is a relief to know that it has been resolved.” His words were calm, but his heart was racing, and Draco wasn’t sure how long he would be able to keep his emotions contained. “Perhaps we should return?”
</p><p>“But of course.” Astoria smiled prettily up at him, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “My mother is quite proud of dessert, treacle tart. I understand it’s your favorite.”
</p><p>It was the wrong line of conversation if she had been hoping to restore some sense of calm in Draco, because all he could think was how on earth did she know what his favorite dessert was. Which, of course, was a vaguely ridiculous thought. Obviously his mother had shared that tidbit. But it was infuriating to think she was talking to people about him, even if it was only something as mundane as food preferences. “I haven’t had treacle tart in ages. It’s not common in New York.” He tapped his fingers slowly and deliberately on his leg as they walked trying to regain control.
</p><p>Back at the table, the parents were discussing an upcoming charity ball. Astoria slid into the conversation easily, but Draco found it difficult to focus. He kept clenching and unclenching his hand under the table, and his quiet was noticed. Narcissa gave her son several concerned glances, and he gave her a tight smile in return.
</p><p>It was Mr. Greengrass who commented on it though. “I hope we are not boring you with talk of the biggest summer event.”
</p><p>“Not at all.” Draco snapped into the moment. “It’s been a very long week, and I am finding all of this good food and fine company simply very relaxing.” He took a deep breath and gave a more real smile. “Forgive me, if I am not upholding my end of the conversation.”
</p><p>The truth can often be disarming, especially in situations like this, Draco found, and Mr. Greengrass seemed to accept this answer satisfactorily.
</p><p>“Perhaps we can have a picnic on Sunday?” Astoria suggested brightly. “There are some lovely parks or perhaps on the grounds?”
</p><p>“Do you fly, Astoria?” Draco asked in sudden genuine curiosity.
</p><p>She licked her lips slowly before answering. “It’s never been a great passion of mine, but a leisurely ride could be nice.”
</p><p>Draco nodded. “I will bring some brooms. I am not very familiar with any of the parks in the area, perhaps you could make a suggestion.”
</p><p>“I’ll send you an owl tomorrow to make plans.” And it seemed, with that, the evening drew to a close. Draco and his mother made their farewells before stepping into the floo and returning to Malfoy Manor.
</p><p>Naricissa went first, and was waiting when Draco arrived. “What did you and Astoria talk about while on your tour?” She asked in a somewhat accusatory tone.
</p><p>All of Draco’s anger came rushing back. “I believe I’ll be going out, Mother. I may not return until late.”
</p><p>“Don’t you walk away from me, Draco!” Narcissa shouted, but Draco was already apparating away.
</p><p>*
</p><p>Harry had hotly debated with himself what time to show up at the club. Early? So that he definitely wouldn’t miss Malfoy’s arrival? Late? Because Malfoy had said he had plans and thus would probably arrive later? He settled for midnight, because he couldn’t stand to wait any longer.
</p><p>It was crowded when he arrived, and Harry had to fight his way to the bar for his usual whiskey sour. He threw it back quickly and ordered a second. While the bartender was busy he looked out over the crowd for any sign of red leather or pale hair. His gaze swept quickly, but thoroughly through the space and then back. It took a break in the dance floor for Harry to find him.
</p><p>Draco was in the middle of the crowd, jumping in time to the beat, hair waving back and forth and looking lost in the music. Harry watched him throw his head back and traced the long line of his throat before the crowd moved again, blocking his view. The bartender thumped the highball on the counter; Harry tossed him a few notes and threw back the second drink before wading onto the masses.
</p><p>A new song came on, the beat harsh and sharp and pulsing through the crowd. Harry suddenly locked eyes with Draco as a small space opened around him. His breath caught and his heart pounded in his ears as Harry was able to slip in next to him. Draco slid his legs into a wide stance, bracing himself in front of Harry, drawing Harry’s attention to the height difference, to the strength in his legs. And then the beat picked up. Draco stomped his feet and shook his shoulders, arms and eyes on Harry. It was almost as if Draco didn’t recognize Harry. Harry felt as if the intensity might set him on fire, but Draco looked lost in the music, in the pounding and the pulsing and the violence of the moment. He dragged his hand across Harry’s chest, a line of heat and Harry was pretty sure he would feel forever.
</p><p>And then Drao was twisting, popping his knee and pushing up aggressively into Harry’s space. His breath hot on Harry’s neck, and Harry grabbed Draco’s hips, lined them up and rolled against him, both of them hard and dragging against each other. Draco brought a hand up and pushed Harry back half a step, twisted back around again, and ground his ass back against Harry until Harry groaned.
</p><p>Draco’s hair was damp with sweat and it brushed against Harry’s face as Draco pitched his head back and forth. It was like chasing an elusive scent, and Harry reached around, hands splayed across Draco’s hips to grind harder. Draco threw his head back onto Harry’s shoulder, and Harry drew his nose along the length of skin and breathed deeply. In that moment, Harry was pretty sure he could drown in the smell of him.
</p><p>Draco had been on the dance floor for a while, stomping and pushing and grinding out his anger. And now he was loose and relaxed and ready for a little fun. Last time there hadn’t been a moment for seduction, for temptation and teasing. And Draco found that to be a regret. 
</p><p>He planted himself in front of Harry, intent on the dance, on the feel of the music pounding through him, on the endorphins and the feel of a partner who would be both a release and a challenge. They both knew they would end up in that hall, had known it since Harry had brought it up at work, but how they got there, that was the challenge. And Draco was feeling good and in no hurry. He ran his hands along Harry’s chest, across his shoulders, down along his stomach. He rolled his ass against Harry’s erection, squeezed and ground himself against Harry until they were both sweating and breathless and hard.
</p><p>“A drink?” Harry shouted, and Draco nodded, grabbing his hand and moving through the crowd back to the bar.
</p><p>“Gin and tonic.” Draco shouted and then gestured to Harry who ordered another whiskey sour. Draco handed over the notes when the bartender handed over the drinks. And then Draco pulled Harry over towards the door, the only place they could talk without screaming at each other. “So Potter, is this how you usually spend your weekend?”
</p><p>Harry shook his head. “Not usually, but I like to come here to let loose. I live close and no one here knows me.”
</p><p>Draco nodded and took a sip. “There’s a place like that near my apartment in New York. Except, they do know me there. It’s not as loud as here, not a club, a nice bar.”
</p><p>“Tell me more about New York. It sounds interesting.”
</p><p>“That’s for sure.” Draco smiled, a real genuine smile. “It’s not like here. I mean, it is, in that way that all big cities are like each other, but there’s pizza and hotdogs and celebrities that no one cares about except tourists. And the people are mean, not mean, but they couldn’t give a shit about you and I like that.”
</p><p>“I’d like to go sometime. Sounds sort of perfect for you.”
</p><p>“Yeah, it is.” They both sipped on their drinks for a minute. “So, what do you usually do on the weekends?”
</p><p>“Oh, sometimes there’s Quidditch and Ron and Hermione have me over for dinner or we go to the Burrow. There’s always something to be done around the house.”
</p><p>“No boyfriend no girlfriend?”
</p><p>“Not usually. Too high maintenance, and reporters are always getting in the middle of things. People either like the notoriety of dating me or they can’t handle all the attention. Either way it doesn’t work.”
</p><p>“But you fuck Henri on a regular basis.” Draco pointed out, curious and a little jealous, if he was honest. And, at the moment he was.
</p><p>“That’s only when we’re working together. It’s not like dating, just convenient. What about you?”
</p><p>Draco thought about Astoria and drank deeply from his glass. “Too much of a selfish asshole to keep a boyfriend.” He shrugged. “And besides, Mother wouldn’t like it if I brought home a man.”
</p><p>“Because you come home to your mother so often.” Harry rolled his eyes.
</p><p>“If I’m going to be serious about somebody, I want him to get along with my Mother.” Draco scowled. “And Roxi. She’s probably harder to please then Mother.”
</p><p>“You guys are close then?”
</p><p>Draco shrugged again. “She’s family.” This conversation really wasn’t going in the direction Draco wanted. “Hey, so, you pull here, yeah?”
</p><p>“Yeah?” Harry agreed reluctantly.
</p><p>Draco put on his wicked grin. “You got a pick-up line or anything?”
</p><p>“Uh, no?” Harry asked confused.
</p><p>“Then how do you convince a guy to go home with you?”
</p><p>“I don’t know.” Harry shrugged. “I just ask. Why? Do you have a line?”
</p><p>Draco shook his head, smirked a little. “Depends.” He stood up and leaned heavily on Harry to whisper in his ear. “If we’re on the dance floor, I tend to get real handsy, grind up against him, slip my hands down his pants, basically try to fuck him on the dance floor.” Harry swallowed hard at the image. “But, if we’re sitting down, chatting really nice, I like to stand up, lean against him so I can whisper in his ear like this.” Draco reached around slightly, put his hand on Harry’s thigh and ran it up the inseam. “I might make some comment about how hot you are, how I want to run my hands through your hair or suck on that big cock. I like to be explicit about what I want, no secrets or confusion.”
</p><p>“That works?” Harry asked breathlessly.
“You tell me.” Draco replied. “You saw me last week, do you want to know what it’s like?” He straightened up, and waited.
</p><p>“Fuck yes.” Harry exhaled, grabbed Draco’s hand and pulled him back towards the hallway.

</p><p>Draco and Astoria made plans for a picnic lunch on Sunday. She had a prior arrangement later in the day, and so they agreed to meet at a wizarding park near Diagon Alley at 11am. Draco brought the brooms and Astoria brought a large hamper of food and a blanket. It was warm, but not overly, a slight breeze and just a few clouds up high, a beautiful day for flying.
</p><p>Together they staked out a place near enough to a tree to be in the shade but not so close as to be on the roots. Draco reclined on the blanket while Astoria pulled out a selection of finger sandwiches and small nibbles. They chatted amicably about the weather, about Astoria’s upcoming meeting with Millicent for yet another charity, about Narcissa’s recent changes in the garden. It was all reasonable, polite conversation that was both enjoyable and irrelevant. Draco found it to be a lovely backdrop to the sunshine.
</p><p>“Shall we go for a leisurely ride?” Draco asked when the conversation lulled. “It’s been ages since I’ve been on a broom.”
</p><p>“I’m not much of a flier.” Astoria admitted with a little moue of a frown.
</p><p>And Draco suddenly gathered that Astoria didn’t much like doing things if she didn’t do them well. “That’s alright. I thought we would stay close to the ground, ride around the pond maybe, like a stroll, but on brooms.”
</p><p>“Alright then.” Astoria agreed, standing and smoothing her trousers.
</p><p>Draco let Astoria set the pace, flying just a bit to her right and behind, mostly thinking about the breeze and the feel of the broom. It really had been too long since he had flown, but there wasn’t much opportunity in New York, not enough wizarding only parks. And Astoria looked lovely perched on her broom, the breeze teasing out a few long tendrils of hair.
</p><p>They were half way around the pond, weaving carefully through a group of trees when something moving fast rammed into Draco from behind. Draco had just enough time to catch sight of a wild tangle of red curls, before he was pitched over the front of his broom. She was close enough that Draco was able to reach out, tuck her in close and hit the ground first, mostly with his shoulder.
</p><p>“Ow!” She cried, and Draco released his hold, rolling onto his back and gasping for air. His shoulder was most certainly heavily bruised and ached something fierce.
</p><p>“Are you alright?” He asked the girl when he had enough air to speak.
</p><p>She crouched over him, nodding. “Sorry.”
</p><p>“S’okay,” Draco groaned and pulled himself up to sitting. He looked over the girl, with her flaming red hair and sprinkle of freckles, she was definitely a Weasley. “Where are your parents?”
</p><p>At which point Draco could hear, “Rose! Rose!” in the background. He hung his head in a sort of horrible desperation at the sound of Harry’s voice. Then there was the sound of hurried footsteps that slowed as they got closer. “Rose! Malfoy?”
</p><p>Draco looked up. “I think I found something of yours, Potter?” Draco nodded at Rose who launched herself into Harry’s arms.
</p><p>Harry surveyed the crash scene. “Looks more like she found you. Are you injured?”
</p><p>Draco’s heart stuttered for a moment; Harry hadn’t denied she was his. “It takes more than a four year old to hurt me.” But he winced when he moved his shoulder.
</p><p>And Harry definitely noticed the wince. “She may be small, but as I can personally attest, she packs a wallop. Rose, why don’t you go back to your mother while I check on Mr. Malfoy here, okay?”
</p><p>“Okay.” She nodded and ran back off through the woods.
</p><p>“Aren’t you worried she’ll get lost?” Draco murmured as Harry knelt down next to him.
</p><p>“We’re here every sunny Sunday. She knows where to go.” Harry replied. “Let me look at your shoulder.”
</p><p>“It’s fine.”
</p><p>“Says the man who just a week ago bled through his shirt.” Harry laid gentle fingers on his shoulder. “Let me see.”
</p><p>And that was the moment Astoria reappeared. “Draco?” she called, hopping carefully off her broom and hurrying over. “What happened?”
</p><p>Draco unbuttoned his waistcoat and Harry helped him slip it from his shoulders. Both of them suddenly aware that Draco was undressing in public again, a very different sort of public, but somehow undressing was undressing. Draco swallowed hard and looked away while Harry was riveted and not a new inch of skin had been revealed. “Just an accident with Potter’s girl,” he said. “Knocked me off my broom, but I’m alright.” He turned a glare on Harry. “Potter’s just a worrywart.”
</p><p>Harry glared back in response and placed gentle fingers back on Draco’s shoulder, carefully flexing it back and forth. Draco winced, but made no sound. “I don’t think you broke anything, but you’ll probably have a nasty bruise.”
</p><p>Draco pulled away from Harry, and Harry let his hands fall to his side. “I told you I was fine.” He muttered and slipped his arms back into the waistcoat.
</p><p>Astoria watched the interaction with a veiled expression. “I didn’t know you were friends.”
</p><p>“Friends is not the word I would use,” Draco replied dryly and Harry laughed a little.
</p><p>“Malfoy has been working on a special project for the Aurors and the Unspeakables. We’ve been getting to know each other as a result.” Harry shrugged. “How do you know Malfoy?”
</p><p>Draco started on his buttons. “This is Astoria Greengrass. Astoria, Harry Potter.” He kept his eyes trained on his hands as he slipped the buttons into place. “Astoria and I are considering a match.”
</p><p>“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Astoria offered Harry her hand and gave a firm shake.
</p><p>“I had no idea you were interested in marriage.” Harry turned a very confused expression on Draco.
</p><p>Who was saved by Rose. “Mama! Mama! That’s the man I ran into!” she shouted, drawing everyone’s attention to her and Hermione.
</p><p>“I’m so sorry!” Hermione started, and then got a good look at Malfoy seated in the dust, looking disheveled and dirty. “Rose isn’t very good at paying attention to what’s going on around her,” she finished a bit lamely. “What are you doing here, Malfoy?”
</p><p>Draco stood up and tried to dust off his pants. “Astoria and I were taking a ride around the pond.” He stiffened and looked at Hermione.
</p><p>Hermione immediately picked up on the tension in the moment and turned to Astoria. “Hello, Hermione Granger-Weasley, pleased to meet you.” She offered a hand, which Astoria shook as well. “Aren’t you friends with Blaise Zabini? I think I’ve seen you around the canteen.”
</p><p>“Why, yes.” Astoria suddenly looked very pleased. “Blaise and I share several hobbies, and I often have lunch with him. His experiments into magical signatures are fascinating, and I enjoy discussing the origins of magic.”
</p><p>“Yes, he is one of the few of us able to talk about his work.” Hermione smiled. “I thought it was just brilliant how he was able to find traces of a wand in the magical residue.”
</p><p>“It’s a shame magic isn’t easier to see.” 
</p><p>Harry opened his mouth to say something about Draco’s glasses, and Draco elbowed him hard in the side. And then Hermione said, “Yes, fiendishly difficult. Although I seem to recall Malfoy having some sort of glass able to magnify the particles.” They both turned to face Draco.
</p><p>Harry watched as Draco pinched the soft flesh by his thumb behind his back. “Yes, I do. Perhaps I could discuss the techniques I used to create them with Blaise sometime.”
</p><p>“I am sure he would be delighted.” Astoria smiled brightly at Draco and then turned back to Hermione and carried on with the conversation.
</p><p>“What’s your problem?” Harry asked quietly.
</p><p>Draco scowled magnificently. “I am not terribly pleased with Blaise at the moment.” He looked away and then added, “He was working on the investigation.”
</p><p>“I know.” Harry replied. “I’m the one who suggested him.”
</p><p>“Mama! Mama! I want to go back to the blanket!” Rose interrupted.
</p><p>“Oh, yes.” Hermione turned to Astoria and Draco, “Please, join us.”
</p><p>“I’d be delighted.” Astoria smiled and they began walking toward Hermione’s blanket.
</p><p>“I’ll gather our things,” Draco offered, mostly in an effort to get away from everyone for a moment.
</p><p>“I’ll help,” Harry offered and followed after him. When they were out of sight of Astoria and Hermione, he said, “You’re getting married?”
</p><p>“I am considering a match, Potter.” Draco stomped across the path. “While no longer the norm among pureblood families, it’s not unheard off.”
</p><p>“Yeah, but, aren’t you gay?” Harry hurried after him.
</p><p>Draco spotted their picnic things and picked up his pace. “That doesn’t prevent me in any way from marriage. And Astoria is fully aware of my inclinations. I’ve no intention of hiding it from a potential spouse.”
</p><p>“So you’ll just, what, not have sex?”
</p><p>Draco gave Harry a look that clearly said Harry was a moron. “What are you? A moron? Discretion would be a key aspect of my life.”
</p><p>Harry looked at Draco’s trousers and his earrings and remembered all the things that had come out of Draco’s mouth last night. And then of things that had come in it. “I doubt that.”
</p><p>“It’s none of your business anyway.” Draco glared and began packing things up as a way to avoid looking at Harry.
</p><p>“And what if I wanted it to be?” Harry asked softly, kneeling next to Draco.
</p><p>Who startled away from him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! It’s my life Potter. I get to live it the way I want to and I don’t have to answer to anyone else! Certainly not you.” He scowled and picked up the hamper.
</p><p>Harry followed after him. “No you don’t. But you don’t have to get married just because your mother wants you to either.”
</p><p>“And who said anything about my mother?” Draco turned on a surprised Harry. “Astoria is able to offer me a life that I couldn’t have any other way. Maybe a life I want. You and everyone else in this fucking town may be aware of everything in my life, but that doesn’t mean you know me. Just because my cock has been in your mouth, doesn’t mean you know me.” He stomped off towards Hermione and Astoria and little Rose, and the two of them didn’t say anything else.
</p><p>Back at the blanket, Astoria was telling Hermione about her nephew, and Rose was trying to sneak back on to her broom. Harry walked over to her while Draco joined the conversation. It wasn’t like he wanted to <em>date Malfoy</em> or anything, but it wasn’t right was it? For a gay man to marry a straight woman? Surely Malfoy could understand that. It was utterly outrageous in fact, and completely crazy that he was even considering it!
</p><p>He boosted Rose onto the broom and watched her hover a few feet off the ground, ready to catch her if need be. Harry threw a quick glance over at Malfoy, who was angrily shredding a blade of grass and not listening to Hermione and Astoria at all. Was he that angry at Harry? Besides, Harry did know Malfoy. He knew the way his hair floated around his head, and the heady way he exhaled. He knew the long line of his legs and the breadth of his shoulders. He knew the snarky tone of voice that indicated amusement rather than irritation, and he knew the glower that screamed absolute hatred. He knew Malfoy liked his privacy and didn’t like other people sticking their noses into his life, just like Harry did. 
</p><p>He knew that Malfoy was devoted to his work, just like Harry. And he didn’t believe that pureblood bullshit, but he was still proud. And suddenly Harry wondered just which button he had pushed that had made Malfoy so angry. He kept one eye on Rose, having learned his lesson from when she’d outpaced him before, but he kept the other eye on Malfoy.
</p><p>And when Malfoy stood up and walked over to the edge of the pond, kicking at the gravel, Harry insisted Rose go over to her mother before joining Malfoy at the edge of the pond. “You’re right. It’s none of my business, and I don’t know you.”
</p><p>He heard Malfoy suck in a deep breath.
</p><p>Harry continued. “I don’t like it when people make judgements about me, or get overly involved in my life, so I shouldn’t do the same thing to you.”
</p><p>For a long moment, Draco didn’t say anything. “It’s so much easier in New York; people just don’t give a shit about me there.”
</p><p>Harry chuckled lightly. “Sounds nice. Maybe I should visit.”
</p><p>Draco smiled and glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah, no one would know you there. Wouldn’t be able to trade on your fame for anything.”
</p><p>“But I wouldn’t have to worry about the newspapers trying to give a detailed description of what I like in bed.”
</p><p>Draco scoffed. “S’not that hard to figure out. You’re male, you like head.”
</p><p>Harry laughed loudly at that. And then Draco was laughing too, loud and clear and honest, the kind of laugh Harry only heard around friends. And it was lovely, a warm glow in his stomach that Harry enjoyed but didn’t think too hard about.
</p><p>*
</p><p>Lunchtime on Monday saw Harry hovering outside of Malfoy’s lab. Technically, he was a little early for lunch, but he’d dithered too long over asking Hermione to invite Malfoy. And really, he suspected Hermione wouldn’t argue enough with him when Malfoy inevitably said no. And Harry really did want to have lunch with Malfoy.
</p><p>He put his hand on the door knob and then stopped again. If he really did want Malfoy to come to lunch, then he needed to do this exactly right. Harry knocked on the door. There was a clatter inside the room, and then a slow set of steps over to the door.
</p><p>Malfoy peeked out. “Potter, what are you doing here?”
</p><p>“Inviting you to lunch.” The direct approach seemed best.
</p><p>Malfoy left the door open and ambled back over to his mostly assembled generator. “I have a lot of work to do here.” He sat down and picked up the cover for the generator.
</p><p>“The work will still be here in an hour, whether you eat lunch or not.” Harry pointed out.
</p><p>“But I’ll be an hour closer to completion.” Draco sighed. Something had shifted between him and Potter yesterday in a way that left Draco feeling vulnerable. Like when he’d gone to Thanksgiving at Roxi’s house that first time.
</p><p>“I could bring something here.” Harry suggested. “I know Hermione would like to see you work.”
</p><p>“No food in my lab, Potter. I am not interested in crumbs getting into my potions.” Draco glared at his generator rather than look at Potter.
</p><p>“Okay.” Harry shrugged. “Then we can take turns standing in the doorway.”
</p><p>It was the casual way that Harry spoke that finally broke through Draco’s resolve. “Why is this so important to you?”
</p><p>Harry licked his lips. Because for the first time in a long time, he wanted to date someone. Not just a nameless fuck. Not an easy, casual thing with an acquaintance, but an actual dating experience. “Because you were right, I don’t know you, and I want to.” He licked his lips again.
</p><p>Draco sucked in a breath. “You can’t just say those kinds of things, Potter!” He scowled, but the half-scowl that said he was more nervous than angry.
</p><p>“Why not? If it’s true.” Harry kept his eyes trained on Draco.
</p><p>Draco gave up the pretense of work and hung his head. “Can’t we just have this thing? Why do you need to push?”
</p><p>“Because I want more.” Harry’s voice got low. “I like how you challenge me. I like your devotion. I like the way you can make me laugh. And the way, sometimes, I can make you too.” He shut the door and crowded close to Draco on his stool. “I like the way your hair is long and the buttoned up way you dress. I like your earrings and the way you just exude sex. I want you to push me back, like you do at the club. I want you to remind me of humanity and goodness like you did at the park. I want you.” He whispered the last three words like a promise against Malfoy’s skin.
</p><p>Draco raised his chin, tilted his head back until it rested on Harry’s shoulder. “God, you make me want it.” He stood up, pushed Harry back a step, and looked him in the eye. “I’m here to do this,” Draco gestured around him, “fairly complicated task. And I’m here to decide about a match with Astoria. This,” he gestured between the two of them. “It’s complicated. I don’t need anything more complicated. I don’t want it. I don’t want you to push me.”
</p><p>“Okay.” Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. “I won’t push. But will you come to lunch?”
</p><p>“Fine!” Draco growled. “But we’re going out. And I want to stop at this bookstore.” He threw his jacket on and stomped into the hall while Harry grinned from ear to ear.
</p><p>As it turned out, the bookstore Malfoy wanted to go to was a muggle one. “How do you know about all these muggle places?” Harry asked as they stepped into the SoHo bookstore.
</p><p>“I do my research.” Draco rolled his eyes as he began to peruse the shelves. He moved through the store with the grace of someone well acquainted despite the fact that he had never set foot in this store.
</p><p>Harry trailed after him, alternately admiring the shape of Draco’s arse in those trousers and the way his fingers lingered along shelves and spines as he picked his way through the store. Eventually, Draco arrived at the historical section. His steps slowed, his fingers lingered longer along the spines, and he even occasionally cocked his head to read the title. Harry loved the way he moved with a casual disregard, as if nothing else in the space mattered, just Draco and the books.
</p><p>“Do you read?” Malfoy asked as he flipped through the table of contents.
</p><p>“Uh, not really,” Harry admitted. Quidditch Through the Ages was still his favorite book. “I think the last book I read was Krum’s biography, and I didn’t finish it.”
</p><p>Draco nodded, replaced the book on the shelf and moved down to look at books on the bottom.
</p><p>“You seem very interested in reading though.”
</p><p>He pulled out another one, skimmed the back cover and replaced it. “Yes. I find history very interesting. Right now, I am making a study of sorts.”
</p><p>“Oh?” Harry said. He wanted to ask, but he thought that might be pushing.
</p><p>“Yes.” Draco pulled out another book, and this time, Harry looked at the title: Winston Churchill, and there was a picture of an old balding man. “This time period.” Draco tapped the cover and straightened. “Shall we grab a quick lunch?”
</p><p>They went to the register so Draco could pay for his book and then they stepped back out into the fresh air. “Who’s Winston Churchill?” Harry asked, having decided that was a fairly safe topic of conversation.
</p><p>Draco looked at him out of the corner of his eye rather than turn a full stare on Harry. “A Muggle Prime Minister. He led England during a war with Germany.” Draco didn’t elaborate on World War 2, it felt too intimate to explain. And anyway, he never really had to explain it before. Americans, magical and muggle, had a weird sort of fascination with the war that hadn’t seemed to diminish in over 70 years.
</p><p>“Oh.” There wasn’t really enough there for Harry to continue to ask questions.
</p><p>But Draco picked up the conversation. “Having lived through a war, I find the Muggle wars to be interesting. We’ve never really had a war like they have, the kind that encompases nearly the whole planet.”
</p><p>“How could they do that?”
</p><p>“A lot of it was technology, to communicate over large distances, but there’s a lot of planning and coordination, exchange of supplies, cooperative attacks. Coding was a big deal, and codebreaking too. I find the innovation and the communication aspects to be very fascinating. And some of the philosophies, the propaganda and such was very effective. It was so different, but some of the strategies were similar, and I guess I find it comforting to know that we aren’t the only ones who did this sort of horrible thing.” It was as close to the truth as Draco ever wanted to say out loud. He hadn’t needed to say anything to Roxi, but then, she had learned about WW2 in school. If Potter wanted to know more, then he could read a damned book about it.
</p><p>They stopped at a shop and bought some sandwiches. “It’s been a long time since I ate outside the canteen or Diagon Alley.” Harry admitted as they walked back to the apparition point. “I’d forgotten how nice it is.”
</p><p>Draco nodded. “It’s so strange to be back here, for things to be so forcefully divided. I’m not used to only being around wizards or only around muggles. It feels wrong.” Draco gave a brief shiver.
</p><p>“You really don’t like being back here, do you?” Harry asked.
</p><p>Draco shrugged. “I guess, I just got used to how things are in New York, and so many things here remind me of the war either directly or indirectly.”
</p><p>Harry hadn’t really thought about the war in a long time. Of course, he did think about it occasionally, there were the reminders at Hogwarts, in the statues around Wizarding England, in the way the Auror department handled certain suspects or crimes. But that was just how life went. Seeing all that through Malfoy’s eyes, it must be like the war just happened for him with little reminders everywhere that Harry didn’t see anymore.
</p><p>No wonder he didn’t want anything complicated.
</p><p>And then they were back at the Ministry, and Malfoy was putting on his bland expression and pretending not to see the looks around them. Looks Harry met openly. Harry escorted Malfoy back to his lab, and lingered around the door for a moment.
</p><p>“Well, are you coming in, or are you going to spend the whole afternoon in the doorway?” Draco took off his jacket and hung it up.
</p><p>Harry stepped in and shut the door. He stepped in front of Malfoy. “I don’t want to push. I want to respect your space,” he started, and then brushed his fingers across Malfoy’s jaw. “But, I want to see you again.”
</p><p>Draco leaned into the touch just slightly. “I think I might go to the club on Wednesday. I have too much work to do before then.” He closed his eyes tightly and then stared heat and want into Harry.
</p><p>Harry dropped his hand and stepped away. “Wednesday. I’ll be there around 10.”
</p><p>Draco nodded stiffly and then turned to his generator, picking up a tool he didn’t need just to have something in his hand. He didn’t look away until he heard the door open and shut.
</p><p>*
</p><p>Thursday Harry was all smiles. He grinned at Ron when Ron stepped into the office. He beamed at the receptionist in records, and he practically floated into his morning meeting with Robards.
</p><p>Ron finally commented on it after the tenth contented sigh. “What’s got you in such a good mood?”
</p><p>And Harry’s smile stretched from ear to ear at the memory. Instead of the back hallway, they’d gone into the loo, and Malfoy had prepped himself beforehand. When Harry had reached into Malfoy’s trousers and found the base of the toy, he hadn’t thought he could possibly get any more turned on. And then Malfoy had whispered, “Been thinking about this all week.” And the whole thing had been over embarrassingly quickly for both of them.
</p><p>“I went out last night.” Harry’s smile got bigger.
</p><p>Ron blinked a moment. “You’re a little happier than usual post-cotial.”
</p><p>Harry licked his lips. What happened at the club, stayed at the club. But that didn’t mean Harry couldn’t say anything. “I’ve gone a few times lately, seen the same guy.”
</p><p>“Harry Potter!” Ron cried out excitedly. “Are you dating?”
</p><p>And if that wasn’t a cold shower for Harry’s good mood, nothing was. His mouth straightened into a thin line. “Not exactly. He’s here for business.”
</p><p>“Muggle or wizard.”
</p><p>“Wizard.”
</p><p>“Where’s he from?”
</p><p>“New York,” Harry replied automatically, back to thinking happy thoughts.
</p><p>Ron got real still and leaned over the desk to ask more quietly, “Are you sleeping with Malfoy?”
</p><p>It jerked Harry back into the present moment painfully. “So what if I am. He’s not the same arsehole he used to be.” He was a very different arsehole.
</p><p>“Shit,” Ron whistled. “I know that! But he’s not exactly available either! Hermione told me he’s considering a match with Astoria Greengrass.”
</p><p>Harry scowled, back to the cold shower feeling. “I know; I’m just not sure why.”
</p><p>“Because he’s Malfoy?” Ron guessed. “Does it matter?”
</p><p>“Yes,” Harry insisted.
</p><p>“Why?”
</p><p>Why did it matter to Harry? It shouldn’t. He shouldn’t give one whit about what Malfoy did with his spare time or his life in general, as long as the arsehole wasn’t committing any crimes. But he did. “It’s just, he’s created this whole new life in New York, a life I know he’s proud of. It seems like such a waste, for him to give all that up for some stupid pureblood shit.”
</p><p>“Not because you're sleeping with him?” Ron prompted.
</p><p>“Well, there isn’t much sleeping going on.” Harry gave Ron a cheeky look.
</p><p>“Not my point, Harry,” Ron said seriously.
</p><p>“He’s going back to New York or getting married. It’s not like there’s a lot of future in this.”
</p><p>“Do you want there to be?”
</p><p>Harry shrugged. Future meant Malfoy staying and there was no chance Malfoy would stay if he wasn’t marrying Astoria. And Harry wanted Malfoy to go back to New York, it seemed right. “I don’t know. It feels like there could be, if things were different.” If Harry wasn’t Harry and Malfoy wasn’t Malfoy. If it wasn’t England or if it was New York.
</p><p>Ron caught on to Harry’s slight depression and changed the subject. “So, lunch with Hermione today?”
</p><p>“Yeah.”
</p><p>“I think she said something about going out today.”
</p><p>“That’ll be good.” Harry turned his quill back to his report on the missings persons case he and Ron finished up earlier in the week.
</p><p>They met Hermione in the Atrium at noon, and Malfoy was scowling magnificently next to her. Harry couldn’t help but smile at the expression. Hermione gave them both a look of relief. “I thought we could try a muggle place. Malfoy suggested a Thai restaurant not too far.”
</p><p>“Do they have curry?” Ron asked, familiar now with Hermione’s cravings.
</p><p>“Yes. and an excellent pad thai.” Malfoy uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands in his pockets.
</p><p>“Coming with, Malfoy?” Harry asked, and all three of them turned to stare at him. But Harry ignored Hermione and Ron and kept his eyes locked on Malfoy until he looked away and nodded.
</p><p>They took off down the street, Hermione and Ron hand in hand behind Harry and Draco. The Thai restaurant was only a few blocks away, and while Harry wanted to talk to Malfoy, wanted to ask about his morning and how he slept last night and make a not very subtle and very explicit reference to last night, he didn’t. Because that was pushing and only allowed at the club.
</p><p>For his part, Draco wasn’t at all sure what he was doing. Granger had turned up at his door babbling about lunch and Rose and how nice it had been at the park. And she was asking all kinds of one word questions about Astoria and his work and Rose and lunch. Somewhere in the middle of all of that he had suggested the Thai restaurant and she had issued some sort of invitation that he hadn’t fully understood until after he’d already agreed.
</p><p>And then Potter was looking at him, the same way he had in his lab on Monday and in the club last night, Draco was half hard and completely out of his mind. He kept his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the sidewalk, and was grateful when Potter didn’t say anything.
</p><p>“Oh!” Hermione gasped. “I found my missing robes! They were in my office this morning. I think the cleaning crew must have taken them.”
</p><p>Harry happened to have been looking at Malfoy when she said this, and he saw several emotions flicker across his face. Why would Malfoy have any emotions at all regarding Hermione’s missing robes? “You took them,” he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
</p><p>“What?” Draco stuttered.
</p><p>“You took Hermione’s robes,” Harry repeated.
</p><p>Draco straightened up but Harry saw the guilt, and then Draco looked at him, full on turned his head and looked. “She’s pregnant, and being an Unspeakable is a dangerous job. Something had to be done,” he hissed and picked up his pace.
</p><p>Harry let him dash ahead and dart into the restaurant. But he wasn’t far behind. “What did you do to them?”
</p><p>Draco followed the waitress to the booth and slid in, only to have Harry slide in next to him. He glared at Harry as if it were some sort of surprise. Ron and Hermione had just walked through the door, so he turned towards them and hissed in Harry’s ear. “It’s a dangerous job. All I did was add some protections.” He scowled.
</p><p>And Harry grinned ear to ear. “Well aren’t you just nice,” he whispered back.
</p><p>Draco scowled harder. “No, I’m an asshole. Shut up.” And then Ron and Hermione were sitting down, and Harry was laughing and Draco stomped on his foot just to make his asshole point. Harry laughed harder.
</p><p>“What’s so funny?” Ron asked suspiciously.
</p><p>Harry shook his head and Draco crossed his arms. “Potter thinks I’ve done something amusing, but I can assure you that I haven’t.
</p><p>“Oh, it definitely is!” Harry settled down from his laughing fit. And then, to change the subject before Ron asked what was so funny, Harry said, “Are you coming to the Hogwarts fundraiser on Saturday?”
</p><p>“Hermione insisted I get new dress robes.” Ron fidgeted in anticipation.
</p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes. “Your old ones are terrible. Have you written your speech yet?” she asked Harry.
</p><p>Harry shrugged. “I thought I’d just wing it.”
</p><p>“That’s what you did last year.”
</p><p>“And last year went fine, didn’t it?” Harry turned to Malfoy. “Are you coming?”
</p><p>Draco smirked and put a hand on Harry’s knee. “Yes, Astoria has insisted we attend one formal event before making any decisions.”
</p><p>The waitress came over and took their orders. Hermione ordered curry, to no one’s surprise. Draco and Harry both ordered pad thai and Ron ordered some sort of soup dish. The conversation drifted a bit after the waitress left to Auror office politics which Draco didn’t know much of anything about. But he kept his hand on Harry’s knee, and at some point, Harry moved his hand over top, lacing their fingers together. It was, all in all, a shockingly pleasant lunch.
</p><p>*
</p><p>Harry was early to the Fundraiser on Saturday. All the speakers were supposed to arrive first so that they could help greet guests as they arrived. Harry gave a speech every year, but this was the first time he had ever arrived early.
</p><p>He was standing in the receiving line, shaking hands and smiling when Draco and Astoria arrived at the apparation point. And chills ran down Harry’s spine. Draco looked fit in his formal dress robes, with his short hair neatly combed. He looked very professional, and Harry thought he might be sick. His stomach clenched and he sucked in a gasp of air.
</p><p>“Are you alright?” Headmistress McGonagall asked quietly between guests.
</p><p>“Oh, yes.” Harry turned away from Draco. “I just saw Malfoy, and I guess I was surprised.”
</p><p>“Hm.” McGonagall nodded. “I had heard somewhere that he was consulting on something for the Ministry. I thought he’d left the country.”
</p><p>“Yes, lives in New York actually.” Harry took the next hand. “Zabini, how are you?”
</p><p>“Very well, Potter. Enjoy your evening.”
</p><p>He saw Hermione and Ron arrive a few minutes later, Ron pulling at the collar of his dress robes and looking uncomfortable. They joined the end of the receiving line, and that was when Harry realized that Draco and Astoria had not.
</p><p>“Harry, you look very handsome.” Hermione smiled and gave him a hug.
</p><p>“Hey, mate, you look like you could use a drink. What happened?” Ron asked.
</p><p>“Just Malfoy is all. Whiskey sour if you could.”
</p><p>“Sure.” Ron and Hermione moved on, and Harry finished greeting the rest of the guests. Speeches would be next, before the guests became too inebriated to listen but after everyone had a chance to relax. Harry usually went last, a fact he always appreciated and hated. His was the speech people would remember, but it would be through a slightly drunken haze. McGonagal always went first and spoke for a long time about unity and peace, the importance of education and community.
</p><p>It was like being back at Hogwarts: Harry tried to pay attention, but was too hungry to really listen. He stalked around the back of the room, shoving appetizers into his mouth as quickly and discreetly as he could before it was his turn to walk up on stage.
</p><p>Ron handed him the whiskey. “So, you ready for your speech?”
</p><p>“Sure.” Harry took a healthy swallow.
</p><p>“Did you even write one?”
</p><p>“S’not like it’s hard. Hogwarts, best years of my life, education is important, blah blah blah. That kind of thing.”
</p><p>Ron snorted. “They do all sound the same after a while.” He held up his own cocktail. “Well, good luck.” He walked off to find Hermione.
</p><p>Harry drank two more cocktails before it was his turn to speak, and thankfully he didn’t stumble on his way to the stage. “Every year we have this fundraiser for Hogwarts, for repairs, improvements, students. It’s important, an investment in the future.” Harry cast his gaze over the crowd and tried to find Draco. “It seems like forever ago that I was getting my letter, but I can still remember how much the Great Hall felt like home.” There he was, off to the right, holding a drink and looking wrong. “I think about my classmates, the friendships that I made there and how they shaped my life.” He caught Draco’s eye. “How even now, seeing certain people evokes feelings of home.” What drivel was coming out of his mouth? “I hope all of you remember what it was like to walk those halls, to soak in the magic.” God, could this speech get more melodramatic? “Let’s make sure Hogwarts continues to provide those same experiences for the future!”
</p><p>When Harry stepped away from the podium, Hermione was right there to congratulate him. “But, maybe next time you should let me write your speech.”
</p><p>“Uh-huh.” Harry nodded. “Have you seen Malfoy?”
</p><p>“No, but I’m sure he is around here somewhere.” Hermione looked around, “Oh, I need to speak with the Minister. See you in a bit, Harry.”
</p><p>It was another thirty minutes before Harry could escape the fawning masses and find another drink. And it was with great relief that he saw Draco at the bar. “Enjoying the evening?” He asked.
</p><p>Draco turned and smiled. “Well, the speeches were interesting if not all very well done.”
</p><p>“Is that your way of saying I didn’t spend enough time on my speech?”
</p><p>“Potter, if you spent more than five minutes writing that, I will eat my robes.”
</p><p>“Ah, well, you’re in luck. I didn’t spend any time writing.” Draco laughed, and the clenching in Harry’s stomach let up a little. Harry scooted down the bar with his drink. “You cut your hair.” Harry hated it, he hated the short length and the no earrings and the robes.
</p><p>Draco raised a hand and touched the short stands. “Yes, well, I needed to look presentable, didn’t I?”
</p><p>Harry looked out at the crowd as he said, “I don’t like it.”
</p><p>“It’ll grow, Potter,” he admonished, but only a little.
</p><p>“You just look all Malfoy.” Harry made a wide gesture with his hands.
</p><p>“I am a Malfoy.” Draco pointed out testily.
</p><p>“I just meant, with your hair and your earrings and your three piece suits, you look like the Draco I know. This, with the formal robes and all, looks like Malfoy.”
</p><p>Draco sucked on his drink. He wanted to tell Harry he didn’t understand the difference, that he was the same man, but he felt different. Not necessarily good or bad but definitely different. He settled for, “You’re drunk.”
</p><p>“I hope. It’s the only way to get through these things.”
</p><p>“Why do you come?”
</p><p>Harry let out a large sigh and finished his drink. He took a moment to signal the bartender for another before answering. “McGonagall always asks. I’m a big draw for donors, even the ones who see me at every fundraiser.”
</p><p>“Hm,” Draco replied. “I guess you look alright in robes.”
</p><p>Harry shot him a sideways glance. “What, think I could do better?”
</p><p>“Maybe I’m just used to seeing you in jeans and leather.” Draco downed his drink and turned back to face the bar. Harry did the same even though he didn’t need another drink yet. Draco ordered a gin and tonic and a cabernet from the bartender. “I need to get back to Astoria.”
</p><p>“She seems nice enough.” Harry drank deeply from his glass. “I don’t like her.”
</p><p>Draco laughed hard and humorlessly. He leaned in close to Harry to whisper in his ear. “Of course not. Why would the man I’m fucking like the woman I’m considering marrying.”
</p><p>Harry grabbed his arm. “Don’t.”
</p><p>“Don’t what?”
</p><p>“Don’t make light of this.”
</p><p>The bartender brought over Draco’s two drinks. “What about this is light?” Draco asked, voice utter seriousness.
</p><p>Harry brushed two fingers over the inside of Draco’s wrist. “Come to the club tonight.”
</p><p>“No.” Draco drew his hand slowly but confidently from Harry.
</p><p>Harry let him go, watched him take his drinks and disappear into the crowd. Probably back to Astoria, although Harry had no actual evidence to support that. He turned back to the bartender and ordered another whiskey sour.
</p><p>That was where Ron found him, nursing another drink and sulking at the bar nearly twenty minutes later. “What’s wrong with you?”
</p><p>“Nothing.” Harry scowled.
</p><p>Ron raised his eyebrows, and Harry let out a sigh. He never could fool Ron, but he didn’t know exactly how to say what he felt. It had been bad enough having the conversation with Malfoy. “I just--I just think he shouldn’t get married.”
</p><p>“Ah.” Ron sat down on the stool next to him. “You know I don’t like him.”
</p><p>“I know.” Harry said into his glass.
</p><p>Ron was quiet for a moment. “Hermione wore her lost robes on Friday, you know. She spilled a bit of tea.” All of Harry’s senses went on high alert. “It just beaded up and rolled off, not a stain or anything. And then Hermione did some more tests. Tried to set them on fire, soaked it in water, anything she could think of while standing in the kitchen.”
</p><p>Harry hunched in on himself. “It wasn’t the janitorial staff who took her robes.”
</p><p>Ron nodded at the confirmation. “That’s what I thought.”
</p><p>“He’s really worried about the pregnancy.”
</p><p>Ron looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “He’s still an arse. A pointy-faced, ferrety arse, who apparently gives a shit in the most underhanded way.”
</p><p>Yeah, that sounded like Draco. “Did you tell Hermione?”
</p><p>Ron gave Harry a look. “Mate, it’s Hermione.” He rolled his eyes. “And anyway, Hermione said he was not horrible with Rose.”
</p><p>“High praise indeed.”
</p><p>“What I’m saying,” Ron pushed through, “Is maybe you’re right. And maybe I can get over it.”
</p><p>*
</p><p>Meanwhile, Draco was making the rounds with Astoria. Having left England right after the trials, he did not know most of the people in the room. Although Astoria seemed to know everyone. She’d introduced him to at least twenty people, and so far, the only person Draco had been acquainted with was Blaise.
</p><p>He and Astoria spoke mostly of magical theory, which Draco knew very little about and cared even less. He felt uncomfortable, even more outside of his element than the entirety of the trip. Draco’s formal robes felt tight around his neck and he kept having to remind himself he’d taken out his earrings and couldn’t be touching his ears all night.
</p><p>“We’re boring you with all this work talk!” Astoria chided when Draco failed to join in the conversation.
</p><p>“Not at all.” Draco replied with a bland smile for both of them. “It’s nice to see you in your element. I was merely enjoying the view. Would you care for another glass of wine? Zabini?”
</p><p>“Please,” Astoria gave him a brighter smile.
</p><p>Zabini declined, and Draco escaped to the bar and ordered a gin and tonic. This was not the right time to get drunk, what with his need to remember names and actually make small talk. It felt so odd to slip back into the role he thought he would fill as a child, a role he hadn’t played in ten years. It felt easy to fall back into, and that easiness rankled.
</p><p>And then there was Potter, talking about his hair and his earrings, putting words to all the unease Draco felt. Of course Harry looked fit in his well tailored formal robes and his obvious drunkenness. And the conversation was easy and not unpleasant despite the topic, and for a brief moment Draco wished he could stay there instead of returning to Astoria like the dutiful suitor he was.
</p><p>He wouldn’t go to the club. He was going to have to give Harry up. There was too much between them, too much history and emotions. And Draco was going to marry Astoria, probably. And such a high profile affair would simply not do. Or he would return to America, and Harry would stay in England. And here, in this giant ballroom full of strangers it was easier to create distance between them. He wouldn’t go to the club tonight.
</p><p>Draco handed Astoria her glass and took the tiniest sip he could manage of his own. Another person had joined the conversation, and Astoria introduced him as Unspeakable Wilkinson who sometimes did research with Blaise. At least they had left off the work talk.
</p><p>“It’s always the same speeches,” Wilkinson was complaining.
</p><p>“Having not heard any before, I thought Potter’s was remarkably poor,” Draco replied.
</p><p>Astoria gave him a critical look over her glass, and Blaise grinned. “At least it was short,” Wilkinson defended it.
</p><p>“Yes, but then I would be surprised if Potter could write a longer speech. I am surprised he didn’t get Granger to write it for him.”
</p><p>“You mean Hermione Granger-Weasley?” Wilkinson squinted his eyes quizzically.
</p><p>“Yes,” Draco carried on. “She is the brains of that outfit after all.”
</p><p>The slight widening of eyes from Astoria was the only warning Draco had before a large hand clapped down on his shoulder. “Glad to know you think so highly of my wife, Malfoy,” Ron drawled.
</p><p>Draco turned to face him and said in utter seriousness that Blaise and Astoria would surely doubt. “I hold your wife in the highest of respects, Weasley. I’d think you would know that by now.”
</p><p>Ron gave a bland smile, cultivated over the last ten years of public events and over-zealous reporters. “Actually, that’s why I’ve come over here. Hermione was hoping to have a word with you regarding those laptops you requested. Something about delivery times.”
</p><p>Well that was clearly a crock of horse shit as those laptops were currently spread out in pieces across Draco’s counter waiting for the potion to dry before reassembly. “Please, excuse me, duty calls.” Draco gave a short bow and followed Weasley out onto the balcony.
</p><p>Without light pollution, Draco could pick out numerous constellations as well as the milky way galaxy. He leaned against the rail and looked out at the sky, gin and tonic still in hand.
</p><p>Ron came up next to him, and Draco waited. Weasley would either get to the conversation or not, and here Draco could breathe. “Are you really going to marry her?”
</p><p>“No decision has been made.” Draco refused to ask why.
</p><p>“I know you’re bent, so why would you even consider marriage to a woman?”
</p><p>Draco sighed loudly, obnoxiously even. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
</p><p>“I remember when I realized I was going to ask Hermione to marry me. It was about three seconds before I actually asked. I didn’t have a ring, I hadn’t even thought about it really. She was sitting at a different table at some stupid event like this about a year after the war. Harry and I were sitting together, but whoever did the seating arrangement had put her way over on the other side of the room. And I just remember thinking it wasn’t right, to not sit next to her. That I belonged seated next to her. She was family. So I just marched over there and asked, made it so everyone had to recognize that we’re family.”
</p><p>“What’s your point Weasley?” Draco asked, a knot of uncertainty pushing its way into his chest.
</p><p>“Just, you’ve always been so concerned with family, and I thought maybe that was the reason you were going to ask, because your family wanted you to.”
</p><p>“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to please your parents.” Draco scowled.
</p><p>“There isn’t. And I would be lying if I said that marrying Hermione didn’t make my mum very happy. But, marriage isn’t about the family you have, it’s about the family you choose. I don’t know when it happened, but Harry and Hermonie are my family just as much as my blood. The only difference is I chose them.” He took the drink out of Draco’s hands, and Draco saw that all the ice had melted. “Merlin only knows why, but Harry sees something with you, and that something can’t happen if you choose Astoria.” He threw back the watered gin and handed the empty glass back to Draco. “It’s your life, Malfoy, fill it with your choices.”
</p><p>Draco went back to Astoria who had moved on to chatting with a Mr. and Mrs. Taylor. He worked in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Draco paid strict attention to the conversation, asking several pointed questions, and Astoria smiled happily at him. At the end of the night, Draco couldn’t remember a single name of a single person Astoria introduced him to. He couldn’t remember a single interesting piece of conversation or gossip except the parts that involved Potter.
</p><p>Luckily Weatherby had restocked the liquor cabinet and Draco had no plans for the morning.
</p><p>*
</p><p>It was mid afternoon, and Draco had spread out his things across the island in the kitchen. The house elves were not happy about it. He’d made extra potion for the laptops and generators on purpose, and since they were all coated and just waiting for the final assembly, Draco had taken the extra potion home for an extra curricular project. He had exactly enough potion for one mobile.
</p><p>Narcissa found him wafting a piece of paper over the electronics to help them dry faster. “Weatherby informed me that dinner would be late this evening, due to some sort of insanity in the kitchen. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
</p><p>Draco continued wafting. “I enjoy my work, Mother.”
</p><p>“I can see that,” she replied. “How was the party last night? You were very quiet at breakfast, I was afraid to ask.”
</p><p>Quiet was code for still drunk. Draco didn’t answer.
</p><p>“I thought you looked quite handsome in your formal robes. You and Astoria reminded me of the first event your father escorted me to.”
</p><p>Draco stilled. “I reminded you of Father?”
</p><p>He couldn’t see Narcissa nod, but she did so anyway. “We went to a Winter Ball over the Holidays from Hogwarts. I wore an ice blue dress decorated with snowflakes, and your father humored me in matching robes.”
</p><p>“Why do you still live here, Mother?” Draco had no bad memories of the kitchen, mostly because he’d never really been inside.
</p><p>Narcissa was quiet for a long moment. “I have so many good memories of your childhood here, and I wanted to make sure there was a place for grandchildren when the time came. So that you could fill these halls with better memories.”
</p><p>Draco had to turn around then. He had to see his mother’s face as he spoke. “And what if there were no grandchildren. What if I wanted to return to New York?”
</p><p>Narcissa gave him a soft smile. “Why, I suppose, if that was what you wanted, I would stay at the Paris flat. I do so enjoy the fashion you know. I go every spring for the shows. I hope you would visit more, if that were the case.”
</p><p>Draco stepped around the table, and pulled his mother in for a hug. She was small in his arms, head tucked against his shoulder. “And if I want to marry Astoria?”
</p><p>“Oh my darling,” Narcissa pulled back far enough to look him over. “I’ve only ever wanted for you to be happy. And if Astoria can give you that, I will do everything in my power to make that happen. And if New York is where your heart lies, then I will be just as content.”
</p><p>Draco squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of emotion. “And what if there aren’t any grandchildren in New York?” he said, a bit strangled.
</p><p>“Oh my son,” Narcissa clutched Draco tightly to her, tried to infuse him with all the love she had. “I have spent so many years dreaming that you would return, that there would be the echoes of little voices in these halls. But you don’t sleep in your room. You don’t take your place at the head of the table. The happiest I have seen you, is right here, today in the kitchen. It breaks my heart to see you here. If there are no grandchildren in New York, but you smile, that is all I want.”
</p><p>Tears sneaked their way down Draco’s cheeks, and he hid his face in her shoulder choking back a cry. She held him, hands stroking calmly across his back and muttering soft, soothing words while Draco regained his composure. It had been so long since Draco had let himself feel this vulnerable that it was several long minutes before he could pull his head up and wipe carefully at his face. His eyes were still red and his cheeks shone with traces of tears, but he didn’t sniffle. And for the first time since he had returned, Draco felt calm and comforted.
</p><p>*
</p><p>Monday dawned bright and easy, and Draco felt light for the first time in what must surely have been months. In fact, he felt so light, he thought he might skip on his way to the cafe near the Ministry. He didn’t, but the important part was that he felt like it.
</p><p>Hermione asked him about the weekend and was nearly taken aback at his pleasant tone of voice. “What’s put you in such a good mood today?”
</p><p>Draco immediately frowned. He hadn’t told Astoria yet, and it was poor manners for her to find out from anyone else. “I suppose I just slept well.”
</p><p>Hermione seemed to accept that answer, and left him to assemble the laptops while mulling over a lunch invitation. Draco accepted all of her lunch invitations that last week. They went to a pub on Monday, and Hermione complained about the lack of curry (which she was still eating three or four times a week). Draco suggested a sandwich shop on Tuesday which saw them all crowded on a bench in a park enjoying the sunshine. That was the day Astoria had owled, and Draco spent several hours that evening considering his response. He wanted to inform her of his decision without sounding like he was rejecting her, and that was a thin line to walk. She replied right away saying that she understood and hoped they would remain on good terms. A polite and distant response that Draco was grateful for.
</p><p>On Wednesday, Ron picked a chinese place with servings at least twice as big as any normal person could eat. So naturally, he stole leftovers from Harry and Hermione until Draco handed over half of his lo mein. It wasn’t as good as what he could get in New York. Thursday they went back to the Thai place and Harry spent most of lunch whispering filthy things in Draco’s ear when Hermione and Ron were distracted. Draco got his revenge at the club that night flirting outrageously with other patrons and then taking nearly thirty minutes to make Harry come in the back hall.
</p><p>Friday they ate at the canteen. Draco had finished the last of the eight laptops that morning, and was busy thinking about his plans for the evening when Ron suggested the canteen because they had Harry’s favorite, treacle tart. Draco hovered for just a moment outside the double doors when Harry put his hand on the small of his back. He didn’t say anything, just a pressure letting Draco know he was there.
</p><p>They stepped through the door not touching but together. A slow silence settled over the room as Harry and Draco made their way to the serving line. Draco whispered to Harry something light and silly about them never having seen two archenemies having lunch before, and Harry laughed loudly, the chuckles echoing through the large room. And then the room was filled with loud gossip.
</p><p>“Can we make an entrance or what?” Harry laughed again, and Draco smiled happily at him. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you smile like that.” Harry reached his hand up to trace his thumb along Draco’s jaw, but then quickly redirected to a tray when Draco turned away from him. Harry wasn’t disappointed exactly, it made sense that Draco wouldn’t want Harry to touch him in public, but his fingers felt a bit wrong at having been denied that moment. “Hermione said you have a late portkey tomorrow.” Harry changed the subject.
</p><p>Draco dragged his tray down the line, selecting a chicken caesar salad and water. “Yes. My mother and I are having our last dinner together this evening. Granger invited me to lunch tomorrow, but after that, I’ll leave.” He picked up a chocolate cookie and handed Harry an extra large serving of treacle tart.
</p><p>“Will you be going to the club tonight?” Harry asked, licking his lips.
</p><p>Draco gave Harry his wicked smile. “Of course.” He paid, picked up his tray and walked over to the table that Hermione and Ron had chosen. The room went silent again as Draco sat down, utterly horrified at the thought of the Golden Trio and a DeathEater eating companionably.
</p><p>“Well, this is awkward,” Draco said, having decided the best tacit was to address the silence head on. “You’d think no one here had ever seen the three of you eat lunch together.” He said it loudly, with an angry tint to his voice and several tables away someone gasped.
</p><p>“Cut them some slack, Malfoy.” Harry plopped into the chair next to him. “They just haven’t seen this many good looking people at one table in a while.”
</p><p>Malfoy gave him a sideways look that Harry ignored in favor of cutting his chicken.
</p><p>Ron cleared his throat, “So, any thoughts on where we ought to go tomorrow?”
</p><p>And the conversation turned to a lively debate on the various pros and cons of different restaurants. Draco suggested Indian which Hermione whole-heartedly seconded, but then Harry suggested they go someplace more British as Draco would be leaving the continent.
</p><p>“What’s more British than Indian?” Draco asked wide-eyed in false innocence.
</p><p>It was a comment that went over both Harry and Ron’s heads, but again Hermione found apropos. And it led into a discussion of England’s various colonies over the years that only reminded Harry of Draco perusing the bookstore shelves. The meal came to an end with Ron crying out that History of Magic had been more than dull enough, he certainly wasn’t going to start studying muggle history as they all cleared their trays and headed back to the lift.
</p><p>Hermione and Draco spent the afternoon in his lab going over the basics of the installation and then levitating the five laptops into a more permanent location across the hall. After weeks and weeks of not using magic on them, Hermione thought it a little strange to do it now, but they were all safely assembled and protected. He then took the remaining three to the Auror department and arranged them in a conference room as Robards had directed. To very little surprise, Ron was the first one in googling. Draco was amused to see him on the wikipedia page for the British Empire.
</p><p>And then it was time to go, and all four of them made their way to the floos, Hermione and Ron wished him a lovely evening with his mother, and Harry smiled something wicked that promised nothing but delight. Draco stepped in close, damned if anyone saw, and exhaled lightly in Harry’s ear, causing him to shiver. He reached out a hand, but Draco was already stepping into the floo and shouting Malfoy Manor into the flames.
</p><p>*
</p><p>Harry spent far too long standing in front of his closet trying to decide what to wear. Draco always looked like sex, and this might be the last time Harry had a chance to make a similar impression. He rejected all of his dress shirts because there was just no way, and besides, the club would be too hot for long sleeves.
</p><p>Which left a disturbing pile of t-shirts. Most of which had holes, Harry realized with a growing sense of horror. Really, why was this so stressful? It wasn’t like he didn’t know he was going to get off with Malfoy. Except that Harry really wanted to make a good impression.
</p><p>At the bottom of the pile was an emerald green shirt that was just a little too small, stretched across his chest in a way that Harry usually found uncomfortable. But it did show off his chest muscles, and his biceps. And it looked good with a pair of faded and torn jeans, which had been faded and torn through use rather than purchased that way. Henri had always said they showed off his arse.
</p><p>And with that decision made, there were only two more hours to wait before going to the club. Harry changed his sheets, tidied his dirty laundry, ate a light meal, and then took a shower. And he still had an hour to wait. It was excruciating.
</p><p>Eventually, Harry couldn’t wait any longer and went to the club early. It was a good choice.
</p><p>Draco walked through the door less than five minutes after Harry. He was wearing his suit from dinner, and even though his hair hadn’t grown back yet, he had the earrings and the tip of one thumb in his mouth as he looked through the room. It took Harry back to that first time along the wall when Draco had licked his fingers clean. Harry swallowed at the memory, quickly ordered Draco a gin and tonic, and waited for Draco to find him.
</p><p>When Draco spotted Harry by the bar, he forgot how to breath for a moment. Harry always looked good, with his messy hair and that open smile, but Harry had always looked good, since Draco had started noticing things like that. He was confident and strong and fierce, all things Draco found incredibly attractive without being about how Harry looked. But there he was, leaning against the bar in a green shirt stretched tight across his chest, and Draco was pretty sure he was drooling. Could he suck on Harry’s nipple and get it to pebble up visibly underneath that shirt?
</p><p>And fuck, those jeans had holes in them, torn high on the thigh and large enough for Draco to slip his hand under. Was he wearing pants underneath them? Draco sincerely hoped not.
</p><p>Quickly, he went over to the bar, and Harry smiled as he handed Draco his drink. “You look good,” Draco choked out, eyes roaming across Harry’s chest.
</p><p>Harry smiled happily. “You too.”
</p><p>Draco leaned against the bar next to Harry and they both looked out over the dance floor. It felt like home to Draco.
</p><p>“Do you go to these places in New York?” Harry asked.
</p><p>Draco rolled his drink between his hands. “I do. It’s a place that feels like home. Homosexuality hasn’t always been accepted, you know. In fact, it was illegal for a long time. For some of these men, this is the only place they can be themselves without fear.” He locked eyes with Harry. “I can sympathize with that.” And Harry was caught up in that storm of grey again, in the torrent of emotions Draco kept so carefully under control. Was this really the only place Draco felt he could be himself? “What about you, Potter? Enjoy the club scene?”
</p><p>“Not really.” Harry shrugged. Although, maybe there was something to what Draco said. The reporters weren’t as bad as they used to be, or maybe Harry had just figured out how to handle them.It wasn’t that he cared if the public knew he swung both ways, but it seemed like a lot of unnecessary stress for something that should be simple. “I just come here to pull.”
</p><p>Draco had plans for this evening, plans he had been thinking about most of the day, and this was the perfect opportunity. “Oh really? And remind me, what do you say to get a guy to go home with you?” Because Draco wasn’t really interested in getting drunk or dancing or just blowing off steam in a back hall.
</p><p>Harry was confused by the question. Why did Draco care what Harry’s pick-up line was? Hadn’t he made fun of it before? Even though it worked most of the time. “Wanna go back to mine?”
</p><p>“Yes.” Draco finished his drink and straightened up.
</p><p>“What?” Harry asked, dumbfounded. 
</p><p>Draco stepped in front of Harry, put a hand on his chest and rubbed his thumb over a nipple. It pebbled up, and sent like waves of pleasure through Harry’s cock. “Yes, I want to go back to yours.”
</p><p>Harry stood in shock for a moment as Draco worked his thumb back and forth. “Well shit, let’s get out of here!” Harry straightened, grabbed Draco’s other hand, and marched them out of the club even though they hadn’t been there more than twenty minutes.
</p><p>Outside, in an empty alley, Harry apparated them back to Grimmauld Place, and was very glad he had picked up his bedroom and changed the sheets. He turned and pressed demanding lips to Draco’s mouth, nibbling on his lower lip, thrusting his tongue inside, pushing Draco back against the door. And then he was working his mouth down the side of Draco’s neck, undoing the buttons on his waistcoat and trousers.
</p><p>And Draco was laughing lightly and batting Harry’s hands away. “I’m not going to disappear at midnight, you know. We’ve got all night.” He pushed one hand underneath Harry’s shirt, running it hotly across his stomach and up to his chest. “I want to taste you again. I want you to fuck me so slow I’m begging for it. And then so fast we dent the wall behind the headboard.” He trailed his other hand through the small hairs at the back of Harry’s neck. “And then, when we’ve both come, I want you to take me downstairs, so we can do it all over again in the living room, and the kitchen. I want to make you come in every room of this house.” He moved his hand down over the bulge in Harry’s denims. “I have plans for you, Harry Potter, for you to be so well fucked you don’t get out of bed for a week.” He undid Harry’s trousers, and discovered Harry’s lack of pants. “Fuck, Harry.”
</p><p>“That’s the idea.” Harry gasped as Draco wrapped his hand around Harry’s cock and tugged lightly.
</p><p>Draco sank to his knees, one hand on Harry’s cock, one splayed across his thigh, and licked from the base to the tip. He licked gently around the head and pressed kisses along the side. With one hand working up and down, Draco trailed those same light kisses to lick and suck affectionately on Harry’s balls. And Harry was threading his fingers through Draco’s hair, humming soft encouragements, slowly becoming undone not by what Draco was doing but by the tenderness with which he did it.
</p><p>Eventually, Draco worked his way back to Harry’s cock and bathed it in the same attentive ministrations, working his mouth up and down, sucking and licking and humming until Harry finally hauled him up for a deep kiss. His tongue thrust lazily against Draco’s and his hands gently pulled the dress shirt from his trousers. He kept his mouth firmly pressed against Draco as he pushed the waistcoat off his shoulders and fumbled with the buttons.
</p><p>Draco laughed lightly. “You are terrible at this.” And moved his own hands to push Harry’s trousers to the floor before pulling him closer and thrusting his cock lazily against Harry’s. He undid his own button and zip and began pushing Harry closer to the bed, not bothering to finish what Harry had started with his shirt.
</p><p>Harry yanked off his own shirt just as Draco was pushing him down onto the bed, and then Draco was crawling up between his legs, pressing kisses to the insides of Harry’s knees and thighs while one hand caressed his cock.  Harry propped himself on his elbows to see. “I want to see you.”
</p><p>Draco grinned wickedly, and moved his mouth to exhale on Harry’s cock.
</p><p>“Fuck.” Harry sighed as Draco took his cock in again. Harry thrust lightly, and Draco relaxed his jaw to take the shallow thrusts. “Not really what I mean, but fuck.”
</p><p>With his hand now pumping up and down, Draco asked, “What did you want then?”
</p><p>Harry sat up further and tugged at Draco’s shirt. “Shouldn’t we both be naked?”
</p><p>Draco sat back on his heels, and Harry, while not sad for the loss of his hand, was disappointed at the flickers that crossed Draco’s face. He licked his lips in indecision for a moment, but this would be the only time, Draco realized quite suddenly. The only time he would ever be in this house, in this bed, naked with Harry. Methodically, Draco made short work of the buttons, not turning, not hiding, and then pulling his arms free of the sleeves. “Better?”
</p><p>Of course he had scars. “Merlin, we were awful in school.”
</p><p>Draco laid back down between Harry’s legs. “Mostly me.”
</p><p>“Trying to make up for it, are you?” Harry teased, and Draco looked up with unreadable eyes.
</p><p>“Not at all Potter.” He started to put his mouth back to work, but Harry reached down and tilted his chin up towards him.
</p><p>“Come here.” Harry crooked his finger and Draco crawled up and laid on top of Harry. They shared another long lingering kiss while Harry ran his hands over Draco’s arse, moving closer and closer to his hole with each pass. And then he was teasing with one finger, and Draco was wiggling and thrusting back towards him.
</p><p>“We need lube,” he gasped out, and Harry smiled.
</p><p>“Top drawer.” He nodded towards his nightstand, and Draco reached around to open it. Harry’s hands never stopped stroking.
</p><p>*
</p><p>When Harry woke up in the morning, the other side of the bed was cold. He opened his eyes and tried to decide if he was disappointed. Interestingly, the first thing he saw was a folded piece of parchment with a mobile on top.
</p><p><em>Thanks for the night, Potter. Give my regards to Weasley and Granger.</em>
</p><p>Harry smiled as he picked up the mobile. There were two numbers programmed into the address book: Granger and DM 347-555-2987.

</p><p><em>Only an arse sneaks out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye. HP</em>

</p><p><em>I told you, I’m an asshole. DM</em>

</p><p>
  <em>Goodbye, Potter. DM

</em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Goodbye, Malfoy. HP</em>
  </em>
</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Deleted Scences</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, briefly, for those who care, I originally wrote the first two parts of this story at the same time I wrote To Sleep Perchance to Dream. And I had all of these really lovely ideas for parts three and four. Except, when I sat down to write them, I literally could not make it past the first scene. I had all these ideas about how Harry and Draco kept in contact, mostly through text and they had this weird sort of amazing long distance thing going on that was all going to be resolved in part 4. Except part four never really made it past the first scene--I tried several times.
</p><p>When I finally came back to this story about a month ago, I ended up cutting a major plot point that was going to be this totally awesome sauce with Roxi and her five sisters interacting with Harry to save the day. And, in cutting that part, I ended up cutting most of the text message exchanges between Draco and Harry (because suddenly part three was not about the time they were apart but had like plot and stuff), which was sad. Because Roxi and her sisters are literally my favorite. Since, the sisters make an appearance in part 4, I wanted to give you guys the chance for a little back story, so I’ve made delete scenes!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>[Deleted Scenes]</p>
<p>[Image of Harry Potter: An Authorized Biography] This is a disturbing picture. Tell Granger she looks much better now. DM
</p><p>She says “Fuck Off’ HP
</p><p>Hey! I was being sincere, not sarcastic. That picture makes her look like she hasn’t had a shower in the whole of seventh year. DM
</p><p>Oh! Apparently she didn’t. Why did you spend all of seventh year camping? DM
</p><p>Hermione says she likes that picture. Apparently she picked it. And we were sort of hunting horcruxes and hiding from Voldemort. HP
</p><p>Ah. Roxi says I’m being insensitive. Please give Granger my apologies. Tell Weasley his hair looks like a weasel. Yours, as usual, looks like pigeons have been nesting in it. DM
</p><p>Are you going to read it? HP
</p><p>It’s Authorized, and I’m in it. DM
</p><p>Is that a yes or a no? HP
</p><p>I honestly haven’t decided. My therapist thinks it might be cathartic. DM
</p><p>I didn’t find the experience of writing it cathartic. But it was the push I needed to see a therapist. He thinks you're an asshole too. HP
</p><p>Everyone does Potter, everyone does. DM
</p><p>***
</p><p>I was going to wish you a Happy Halloween, but I’ve been reading that book, and it no longer seems appropriate. How are you, Potter? DM
</p><p>I wish people would stop asking me that. HP
</p><p>So shit then. DM
</p><p>Sorry. DM
</p><p>***
</p><p>ARE YOU OUT??? AAT THE CLUB?!? DM
</p><p>POTTER? DM
</p><p>THERE ARE NOT HOT GUYS HERE. AND ROXI SAYS I CAN HAVE ANY MORE GIN. DO YOU THINK SHE WILL LET ME HAVE VODKA? DM
</p><p>*CAN’T DM
</p><p>POTTTTTTTTTTTER! DM
</p><p>***
</p><p>I was very drunk. Excuse the obnoxious texting. DM
</p><p>I said I was sorry, Potter. Will you please reply to me? DM
</p><p>Are you busy? Because you can just tell me and I will leave you alone. DM
</p><p>Roxi has informed me that I did not actually say that I am sorry, but merely implied it. So, I’m sorry Potter. But seriously, did you go out and pull last night? Bored minds need to know. DM
</p><p>I am starting to think you died. This is the longest you have ever gone without replying to a text. Text yes if dead, text no if merely pissed. DM
</p><p>Malfoy, Hermione here. Harry is not dead, but he was hit by a curse during a raid last night. In St. Mungo’s for testing. Will send updates as we get them. HGW
</p><p>Ignore;sdkgh[wyt 	], ro \	ut309	HP
</p><p>The fuck? DM
</p><p>Sorry. Hermione and I had a fight over the phone. I won. HP
</p><p>BTW I’m fine. Ignore her. HP
</p><p>And I say again, the fuck, Potter? DM
</p><p>Seriously, I’m fine. Yes, I was hit by a curse, no it didn’t do any damage, and these tests are stupid. HP
</p><p>No fit blokes? Not a single one in New York? Was your night ruined then? HP
</p><p>No coitus, but did get very drunk. Apparently I sang on the subway. People booed me. New Yorkers have no respect. DM
</p><p>Any hot nurses? DM
</p><p>No to the hot nurses, she actually has a mole with hair growing out of it.I might pay money to hear you sing. HP
</p><p>You would have to :) DM
</p><p>Glad you are okay. DM
</p><p>***
</p><p>Omg how are you DM
</p><p>Fine, you? HP
</p><p>fabulous what r u wearing DM
</p><p>What? HP
</p><p>what r u wearing pants? color? touching yourself yet? DM
</p><p>And again I say, what? HP
</p><p>we text this all the time DM
</p><p>Nope, try again. HP
</p><p>I speak only in a poncy british accent and eat poncy british things and drink poncy british drinks. DM
	</p><p>I’d like to speak with Draco now. HP
</p><p>Lol, he’s busy helping Mom in the kitchen and we stole his phone. DM
</p><p>Who is we? HP
</p><p>Lacy and Marie DM
</p><p>We’re big fans. DM
</p><p>Can we have a dic pic? DM
</p><p>No, I’d really like to speak with Draco now, though.HP
</p><p>PLease? HP
</p><p>We’ll trade. 646-555-6458. Waiting on dic pic now. DM
</p><p>OMG Potter, I am so sorry. Please do not send dic pic. They are FILTHY WANKERS WHO DESERVE NONE OF THIS PIE! DM
</p><p>Unless you want to send me the pic. It is a good dic. DM
</p><p>I am deeply confused. What is going on? HP
</p><p>Happy Thanksgiving, Potter DM
</p><p>What is Thanksgiving? HP
</p><p>Stupid American Holiday. Supposed to be about family. DM
</p><p>Isn’t your mum in France? HP
</p><p>Yes. I’m at Roxi’s. Her sisters are horrendous. DM
</p><p>Her Mum makes a good turkey though. DM
</p><p>What is so bad about them? HP
</p><p>They all have a gay friend they want me to meet. DM
</p><p>How many of them are there? HP
</p><p>5 DM
</p><p>Good Luck HP
</p><p>And fuck you. DM
</p><p>:) Come to England and I will HP
</p><p>Come to New York. [eggplant emoji] Come IN New York. DM</p>
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